Food Therapy
by SUITELIFEFAN
Summary: When two troubled twins are separated by an unfortunate accident, they find solace in an unexpected art ten years on. A story of delicious food and brotherly love. Tastebuds will be tempted. Reviews Appreciated.
1. Prologue

**Food Therapy**

This is a story of brotherly love and the favorite art known to mankind. Through the storytelling, the narrator aims to develop the relationship between the two protagonists of the Suite Life Series, and at the same time bring forth to readers of this fandom the wonder of fine dining, the workings of a professional kitchen, and food, which remains both a source of nourishment and a developer of bonds and human relationships.

Enjoy the story.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

He worked like an artist possessed, his hands moving fervently across the dough, kneading it carefully using the palms of both his hands. The dough quickly gained his desired even texture and elasticity. Tossing a handful of flour onto the cutting board, the dough was moved onto the board, where he continued kneading. Once he was satisfied, he placed plastic wrapping over the dough and allowed it to set.

He glanced at the clock. _30 minutes_.

_Just enough time for me to prepare the vegetables_, he thought to himself.

The zucchini, yellow squash, onions, red pepper and green pepper were placed neatly on the other end of his workspace. Dicing the vegetables with unperceivable speed, he paused only to shout at the sous-chef to help him shred the mozzarella and dice the tomatoes.

Behind him, the entire kitchen staff stared breathlessly at the master as he tossed the vegetables into the frying pan. With the final order for the evening brought to the kitchen, and the late night customer waiting patiently for his food, there seemed to be very little for the remaining staff to do besides staring at the executive chef and trying to learn the details of his craft through visual observation.

And observe they did. They often liken their executive chef to an orchestral conductor, a maestro who waves his hands and the desired ingredients fall into place, creating edible music beneath his baton (or, as they worked in a kitchen, his knife).

He was to cooking what Beethoven was to music, or what Michelangelo was to sculpture.

An angry glare from the sous-chef prompted the staff to assist with the incomplete food preparation.

With the vegetables done, the executive chef poured the diced tomatoes and diced vegetables into a pot and began to boil the mixture. Wasting no time at all, he cracked an egg with breakneck speed and continued the pasta preparation. In mere seconds, thin sheets of dough became thin tubes of pasta with diagonally cut ends. _Penne_.

In 30 minutes the masterpiece was completed, its components mixed together in a delicious rendezvous.

The executive chef poured the sauce over the waiting pasta as the rest of the kitchen staff paused their washing and cleaning.

It looked like a piece of art suitable for display at any museum.

It smelt like a plate of heaven.

What it tasted like, the cooks would not know for themselves, but there was only one way to find out.

One of the line cooks passed the completed plate of Garden Penne to the waiting server. Carefully, the server placed the aromatic food onto a tray and pushed her way through the kitchen doors. Reaching the table of the waiting customer, she put the colorful canvas down in front of him.

Gripping a fork in his hand, he tucked in.

Zack Martin smiled as loud exclamations were heard from the dining area, the customer in awe at the taste of the pièce de résistance that he had just sunk his teeth into.

_Mission complete._

He started cleaning up his workspace.

* * *

><p>"He went into cardiac arrest twice during the operation, though we managed to bring him back from that. However, his injuries were too severe, and he lost too much blood."<p>

The woman's face fell. Beside her, her toddler grabbed onto her leg and started bawling.

"I'm sorry. We did all we could."

Tears of grief began their descent down the widow's face, and she cupped her head in her arms, as though trying to escape her visual perception of the scenario she was in. The child was hysterical now, despite his limited vocabulary he understood what the man in white had just said, and the child was now seated on the floor sobbing, droplets of salty liquid hitting the cold, polished floor.

As the woman removed her hands from her face, her expression was not one Cody Martin had expected.

Instead of grievance, he saw a slowly boiling rage in her eyes.

"Liar." she whispered.

Without warning, a hand shot out from beside Cody. He dodged it with a split second to spare, and immediately found himself backed up against a wall as the woman gripped his shirt and shoved him, with mere inches between their faces.

She started yelling.

"You didn't try your best to save him!"

"I assure you I did, madam, and the rest of the team did their utmost best as well. We-"

"Stop lying! MY HUSBAND IS DEAD AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

A few security guards stationed at the main lobby quickly made their way to the commotion and pulled the woman away from the young doctor. She was still screaming as they dragged her away. Another doctor placed a gas mask over her and her struggling ceased, her shouting slowly simmering down into murmurs.

"Didn't try...I can't...James..."

Another tear rolled down her cheek.

Cody straightened his tie.

_Just another day at work, _he thought scathingly to himself.

_So this is what Yale Medical School has given me in exchange for 8 years of my life._

He was tired of being the bearer of bad news. He was tired of waking up in the middle of the night to respond to emergency pages that turned out to be mistakes on the receptionist's part. He was tired of the smell of formaldehyde and the crimson of blood. He was tired of being an emotionless machine towards his patients, as medical school had very kindly engrained in him the ability to hide emotion and not get attached to his patients. He was tired of having to force himself to act cordially with his ex-fiancee, whom he met at the hospital nearly every day.

He was tired of his job.

Most of all, he was tired of his life.

His brain thirsting for alcohol, Cody tore off his scrubs, signed out for the day, and leapt into his car.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note - <strong>Welcome to Food Therapy, a new Suite Life fanfiction. The story is meant to be an amalgam between the Suite Life series and the greatest art favored by modern day humans, cooking and food. Please do enjoy the story and leave reviews to help me improve on my writing. :)

~SUITELIFEFAN


	2. Chapter 1

**Food Therapy – Chapter 1**

The convertible sped off across the highway, a blur of maroon juxtaposed against the dark of the night. The highway was empty with the exception of the single car, its windows wound down and loud music blasting from within it.

The convertible neared the intersection and slowed down, as though contemplating its options. Spitting in the face of logic, it took the road less traveled and drove away from the conventional path that would bring its driver back home.

Cody really didn't want to go home right now.

The heart of Boston beckoned, but he refused to answer.

He slowed down as he drove, passing along a long stretch of highway that overlooked Massachusetts Bay. Having a change of heart, he turned off Metallica and switched to a country music station instead. In the most apt way possible, he had tuned into the station mid-song, a clear tenor now blaring through the car's speakers.

**So I'll drive**

**And I think about my life**

**And wonder why**

**That I slowly die inside**

Cody didn't recognize the song or the voice that sang it, but as he listened he felt warm tears coming to his eyes. Unfamiliar tears. Tears that he hasn't felt for years since he had begun his training in the field of medicine.

_Shit_, thought Cody. Maybe changing the station wasn't such a good idea after all.

**A day might come and you'll realize that if you could see through my eyes**

**There was no other way to work it out**

**And a part of you might hate me**

**But son please don't mistake me**

**For a man that didn't care at all**

It hit him. Hard.

Pulling alongside the highway, Cody reached for the radio with trembling hands and turned it off. The white noise of the night filled his ears. Switching off his engine, Cody rested his forehead against the steering wheel and wept.

For the first time in years, Cody Martin, professional doctor, cried.

It was the most welcoming feeling in the world.

As tears rolled down his cheeks, Cody thought about the things that had brought him down to his knees numerous times in his unfortunate life. The divorce between his parents had been the first to push him into a hole of sensitivity as a young child. The constant shouting and yelling before the ultimate decision possibly affected him more than the actual act of divorce. Cody had only been 6 when it happened.

Then when he was 14, his Dad was killed in a road accident. Cody had wept then, for days on end. Despite being distant from his rarely present father he had felt immeasurable grief after he realized that never again would he be able to see the man who had created him.

The next accident ultimately ended up destroying the entire family. It took up a small section in the newspaper in the next day, which Cody had torn out from the paper and kept. He removed the paper from his wallet and looked at it.

"_Boston Herald – 14__th__ June 2006_

_Carey Martin, headliner of the Boston Tipton Hotel, was killed after being hit by a speeding car. The car was, according to witnesses present at the scene of the hit-and-run, a blue sedan. If there are other witnesses who have observed the accident and have information, kindly contact the Boston Police Department at 617-343-4633."_

The driver was caught two days before his mother's wake. It was after the exposing of that particular piece of information that Cody realized he was utterly and truly alone.

The memories were too painful to look back upon.

Scrunching up the paper, he stuffed it back into his wallet and gripped the steering wheel. Pushing his foot down onto the accelerator, he continued his drive into the cold night.

The tears never stopped flowing.

* * *

><p>The majority of the kitchen staff had finished cleaning up their workbenches. After a thorough inspection by the sous-chef they gradually filed out from the kitchen, eager to leave and return to their families at home. The few remaining line cooks were finishing preparation for food to be served as specials the next day, their tasks ranging from preparing the sauces that needed to be cooked overnight to marinating the fish.<p>

Outside in the dining room, the dining room staff had finished cleaning up the tables and were being given their nightly debrief by the Maître d'. The bartender was working alone, wiping up the last remaining beer glasses.

It had been an excellent dinner service.

Zack breathed his first carefree breath for that night as he stepped out from the backdoor of the kitchen. Only having opened the restaurant six months ago he had never expected business to pick up so quickly. Clearly diners have been impressed by the service and the food, with numerous regulars coming in weekly to taste fresh Italian cuisine prepared by the mysterious executive chef and his team of seasoned professionals.

The press thirsted for information regarding this rising star of the culinary world, but Zack had never been friendly with the over-inquisitive. He never talked to the press, having his Maître d' stop any paparazzi from taking a step into the restaurant, and banning all unauthorized cameras in the dining area. The restaurant closed later than other restaurants in the city, such that the disappointed paparazzi armed with cameras would leave before Zack took a step out of his kitchen.

He had stuck to all his principles when deciding to open the restaurant. Briefing his team of cooks before the first day of the launch, he had instructed them in detail with regards to the standard and quality he demanded from them. Also, he let them in on one of his secret ingredients, which he desired to be placed into every dish a customer eats.

Love.

It was cliché, but it worked.

6 months later, his staff were more bonded than ever. The ingredients used were fresh, and the food quality was amongst the best in the country. Profits were rolling in, and the Michelin Guide had started to take notice of the tiny restaurant.

Zack had never felt prouder in his life. For once, he could put his past behind him and focus on the prosperity that was up ahead.

Finally he had a reason to smile.

It was 20 miles later that a red convertible would stop in the middle of nowhere, a lone car in a backdrop that was lit only by the full moon and the light from a tiny, surprisingly well-kept restaurant, with its granny smith apple walls and aubergine porch, and a sign, large yet unintimidating, welcoming guests to the haven known as Martini.

* * *

><p>The doctor was hungry, and he needed nourishment. Parking his car in the small visitor carpark, he stepped into the welcoming doors of Ristorante Martini. He fished around his head, trying to recall the last time he had eaten in a restaurant, and failed miserably.<p>

All he knew was that he was hungry, and he needed nourishment.

Of course, he knew it was unlikely that any amount of food would be able to fill the void within him.

The waiting staff turned as they heard the bell of the front doors ring, surprised by the arrival of the late customer. The Maître d', Esteban, frowned at the interruption. Checking his watch, he was displeased to realize it was mere minutes to closing time. Guests usually never arrived so late.

However, there was no turning away a paying customer, especially since the doors to the restaurant have not yet closed for the night. Sighing inwardly, he stepped away from the waiting team and walked to the front door. Snapping on a smile, he greeted the guest warmly and put on his best and most convincing Italian accent, a notable feat when considering his Peruvian heritage.

"Good Evening and welcome to Ristorante Martini. I am the Maître d' Esteban. Would you be dining with us this evening?"

Cody gave a tired smile. Despite his moody demeanor he had never been able to shake off the courteous nature that had seen him through most of his life.

"Hello Esteban. I apologize for coming so late for dinner service, and yes, I would like to have a meal here."

"Splendid. Dining alone?"

The last word hit him unexpectedly. Cody swallowed.

"Yes."

"All right. Follow me please."

Esteban guided Cody to a single table located at the epicenter of the dining room. Mouthing instructions to the waiting team, he saw a young waiter run into the kitchen to inform the chef of the unexpected final order for the evening. Esteban grimaced inwardly.

_Signore Martin is not going to be happy_.

Returning his attention to the waiting guest, he politely passed the menu to the guest and waited as he contemplated the food choices available in the restaurant. The guest looked exhausted, and as Esteban focused in on his face he noticed dirty streaks running down his cheeks. _Monetary problems, perhaps_. Esteban felt a twinge of sympathy for the customer. _The economy has not been kind to any of us this year._

The customer read out his order, and Esteban wrote it down neatly in the shorthand that was familiar to the kitchen staff. After promising the guest that he would be back with his order, Esteban walked towards the kitchen to deliver the order himself.

Looking down at what he had written, he frowned.

_A tad unconventional…_ He shook his head. _Signore Martin was really not going to be happy_. He knew how much the executive chef disliked orders with excessively custom requests.

Bracing himself, he stepped into the kitchen. Zack was back in the kitchen, clearly frustrated by the news of the tardy customer.

Outside in the dining room, Cody waited; unaware of the way in which his past would greet him that night.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

The song the lyrics were taken from is Highway 20 Ride by Zac Brown Band, and they obviously do not belong to me. Esteban in this story is assumed to have never worked at the Tipton, so I've made him a 3rd character looking in, don't get confused there.

I understand that I just posted the prologue yesterday, but I figured readers would want to see the first substantial chapter to begin understanding the direction I'm coming from.

Reviews greatly appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	3. Chapter 2

**Food Therapy – Chapter 2**

Zack scowled slightly as he walked towards the maître d'. He must have looked angrier than he thought, as the Peruvian immediately began a despondent attempt to defend his decision to serve the customer.

"Perdonami, Signore Martin. I am terribly sorry for the incredibly late order. I was myself in the middle of debriefing the cameriere, but the ristorante closing time has not arrived and I cannot possibly turn down a customer who is willing to pay! Also Signore-"

He was cut off by Zack putting up a hand in front of his face, signaling for him to be quiet. Zack then spoke.

"Firstly, Esteban, I understand you try and improve your service by getting yourself and your waiting staff to pick up Italian to make the restaurant seem more authentic. I deeply appreciate that."

Esteban nodded fervently.

"However, I would like to request that you take pity on yourself, your staff, and us working in the kitchen when the customers are not around, and use English instead. Heck, even your native tongue of Spanish would be easier to understand than Italian."

Esteban gulped, but something in Zack's eyes told him that he wasn't being reprimanded.

"Secondly, it's not your fault that the customer came in late, but before closing time. If I were in your position I would have easily done the same thing. I appreciate you placing the customer above everyone else. In fact I've always stood by the view that the customer comes first no matter what, especially in this industry."

Esteban relaxed slightly as he realized he wasn't going to be on the fryer that night. The few remaining line cooks, who had instinctively hid themselves behind their workbenches upon first seeing Zack's expression when the order had come in, were surprised.

Perhaps even the infamously angry executive chef could be personable at times.

"Thank you, Chef." said Esteban.

Zack nodded his head and looked down at the order in his hand. Subconsciously a deep frown came immediately to his face as he understood the shorthand. He looked up questionably at Esteban, who shrugged sheepishly.

"That's exactly what he asked for, Chef."

Dismissing the maître d' with a wave of his hand, Zack turned towards his remaining crew of 2 line cooks and one sous-chef, who were awaiting orders from their general. Looking down at the order, he frowned again. On the small piece of paper alongside the course titles printed in bold, in Esteban's familiar handwriting, was the following:

"_**+"or "-" signifies additional customer-desired details**_

_**Antipasto: **_-

_**Primo:**__ Wild Mushroom Risotto + grated parmesan cheese, pancetta_

_**Secondo:**__ Veal Saltimbocca + reduced white wine, dry sage_

_**Contorno:**__ -_

_**Formaggio e frutta: **_-

_**Dolce: **_ -

_**Caffe: **__-_

_**Digestivo:**_ -

_Dios Mio_, thought Zack as his inner Esteban took hold. Although the customer was not a sweet tooth and had skipped numerous courses, the 2 primary courses of an Italian meal are written down, and with some of the most complex items off the restaurant's menu.

Not only that, but the customer had attached his own opinion into the orders, making it difficult for the line cooks to prepare their dishes easily as compared to when the orders come in directly off the menu. Additional details from a fussy customer in the "kitchen industrial line" are deterrents to efficiency, as line cooks would typically have to spend more time coming back to the orders and recalling the additional details requested.

A customer adding a detail to a dish could be likened to somebody adding additional paint onto the completed canvas of a painter. In the culinary realm of Italian food, it could be taken by the chef as offensive. Zack, thankfully, was not so touchy.

But that didn't mean he wasn't slightly put off by this picky customer.

Sighing deeply, he decided against reading out the order as he usually did, and instead passed the order round to the 3 remaining cooks in the kitchen. The general then said his command to begin the attack. Almost immediately, the soldiers started their work.

Zack went to his bench and started cooking the risotto, the first course on the order.

_It's going to be a long night_.

* * *

><p>Outside in the dining room, some of the waiting staff had been dismissed by Esteban, leaving behind two waiters to take care of the sole customer still seated in the room. Standing at the closed bar, the two had begun chatting about the odd visitor.<p>

"What is the smell coming off of him? It smells like-"

"-those old Biology labs we used to have in high school. I know what you mean."

"Maybe he works as a science teacher?"

"No, he doesn't seem like the type to be a teacher. Plus he looks way too exhausted to just be a teacher."

"You can't really tell these days, I think. Teachers have it tough."

"Yes, but still…"

Esteban shook his head at his gossiping staff. Focusing contemplatively on the guest, he was slightly alarmed by the enormous, invisible weight that seemed to be on the man's shoulders. The man was hunched, his eyes staring at the empty plate in front of him as he fingered the clean cutlery. Esteban had seen this body language before in many others, and it never bode well.

It was the silent plea for help that the body presented to the world. It was a sign of a man who had given up.

Perhaps there was something a certain Peruvian could do to help.

Esteban turned his head. The bartender had just left his post. Striding purposefully to the bar, he went behind the counter and opened up the liquor cabinet, taking out a bottle of Prosecco wine and pouring it into a wine glass. Adding a dash of Aperol, he topped the drink up with sparkling mineral water. In his hands lay a simple concoction he had learnt in his past experience as a barkeep. Sprintz, one of the simplest but most popular wine-based cocktails a barkeep could learn to make.

Gripping the glass firmly in his hand, he walked over to the center of the restaurant where the guest was sitting, his head now resting dejectedly on the edge of the table. Standing beside the table, Esteban coughed lightly. Once he had gotten the customer's attention, he placed the wine glass gently on the table.

"Compliments from Ristorante Martini."

Cody smiled gratefully and took a sip of the cocktail. The stinging sensation that first hit the back of his throat quickly dissipated into intense warmth. Cody could feel part of his tension fading away.

"Thank you."

Esteban wondered if the late night guest would be interested to talk. He glanced at the clock. It would be at least 10 more minutes before the Primo course could finish cooking. Deciding to ignore restaurant policy of not disturbing the customers for this time, he pulled out the chair opposite Cody and sat down.

There was a moment of awkward silence as both parties stared at each other, unsure of what to say.

Esteban then decided to voice an observation he had first made when the man had first entered the restaurant.

"If you don't mind me saying Sir, you look very much like our executive chef."

Cody smiled as he realized the maître d' was trying to make small talk.

"Really? That's interesting. How so?"

"Your hair, your facial features, your eyes, they are very similar I suppose."

A slightly uncomfortable feeling rose within Cody, but he pushed it down.

"I see. Well, I did do some cooking in my past."

"What was that like?"

"It was a fascinating experience. I studied in my own free time under the tutelage of a chef who worked at a hotel restaurant."

The pair chatted on, as Cody gradually shared bits and pieces of his time and life in the Tipton kitchen during his adolescent years with the earnest maître d'. It was a refreshing experience, as Cody recounted on some of the happiest memories he could recall from that age.

The maître d' known as Esteban (they would later trade names in the middle of their conversation) remained a perfect listener throughout the conversation, nodding at the right times and responding where appropriate. The short conversation reminded him of his past as a barkeep, where the depressed and lonely would seek refuge at his counter till the wee hours of the morning as he listened to them rant about their lives and chug down glasses of beer.

Clearly, Esteban had not lost his comfortable air that naturally prompted strangers to talk to him as a friend. It had been an innate talent which he had found useful numerous times in life.

In no time at all, the 10 minutes had passed. One of the waiters proceeded up to the table, the plate of risotto in his hand.

"Sir, your wild mushroom risotto with grated parmesan cheese and pancetta."

He placed the food in front of Cody. Cody picked up his spoon and contemplated it. Esteban observed Cody as he moved the rice around the bowl, taking in the aroma and observing the colors blended into it. His eyes were sharp as they darted around the bowl. Esteban was then sure the young man had not been joking about his cooking experience. This, plus the detailed instructions he had been given when taking the order, meant only one thing.

_This man is going to be one tough customer_ _to please._

Cody allowed his long forgotten cooking instinct to take hold as he examined the dish. Finally, he was ready to take his first taste. Placing some of the risotto onto his spoon, he pushed the food into his mouth and withdrew the spoon. Running the food along the top of his tongue, his palette surveyed the taste, the consistency, and the aroma of the dish.

Apparently satisfied with what he had just tasted, Cody swallowed. The risotto was still warm as it went down his esophagus.

Esteban waited expectantly for the man to speak.

"The risotto… it's very good. The consistency is perfect, and the taste is very rich."

Esteban smiled. A good review from the mystery customer.

"As a recommendation from this pleased customer to the chef, however, is to make pancetta a permanent addition to the wild mushroom risotto dish. I've always felt that pancetta is perfect for risotto such as this."

Esteban made a mental note to remind him to pass this critique on to the executive chef. He then watched as Cody rapidly spooned the remaining risotto into his mouth. Clearly, the food critique within him had given way to the hungry customer. It was clear that the man was famished. In merely 3 minutes the bowl was polished clean, the spoon rested comfortably within in it and the bowl placed to the side. Esteban couldn't help but open his eyes wide as he observed the speed at which Cody had finished the food.

Cody picked up the glass of Sprintz and sipped it, before murmuring to himself, blushing a little as he realized his slightly inappropriate table manners.

"Excellent risotto…really, one of the best I've ever tasted…"

He hadn't had food so good in ages.

Esteban then remembered his loyalties to the restaurant. Standing, he picked up the empty bowl.

"Let me clear that up for you."

He turned and walked towards the kitchen, depositing the dirty bowl and spoon in the sink. He then realized that the Secondo course had just been finished, the plate sitting on the counter, waiting patiently to be picked up by a waiter. Esteban took the plate and walked back into the dining area, wanting to deliver this course himself.

Of course, he needed an excuse to sit down at the table again.

"Sir, your Veal Saltimbocca with reduced white wine and dry sage."

Cody placed the food through the same visual test as he had done with the risotto. It was what happened after the food entered his mouth that surprised Esteban.

After placing the veal into his mouth, Cody slowly placed the fork back down beside the plate. He sat there in silence, thinking.

When he looked up, there were tears in his eye.

"This Saltimbocca…"

Esteban did not know how to react.

"It's…incredible."

Cody wiped his eyes with the clean portion of his napkin, overwhelmed by emotion. He never felt more connected with food than he ever had since he had left the Tipton Hotel. In a sudden rush, his cold, emotionless void was filled, albeit temporarily, with one of the simplest pleasures that mankind had indulged in since the beginning of their existence.

He now remembered why he had begun cooking in the first place.

An epiphany into the past.

Picking up his fork, he picked up another piece and placed it in his mouth, chewing it. Esteban could tell that the man wanted a moment alone. Silently, he walked away. There was no need for him to provide more words to calm the weary visitor.

It was clear that the food had done the rest of the talking for him.

In the kitchen, the remaining cooks finished the cleaning up and retired for the evening, leaving behind the executive chef to close up the restaurant once the final customer had finished his meal. Zack fingered the rim of a glass which contained Prosecco wine, with an added dash of Aperol, topped up with sparkling mineral water. He placed it to his lips and sipped contentedly.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

I understand that some of you might be confused by the Italian terminology, however I'm glad I have the opportunity to share with you all something about Italian Cuisine. The "printed" courses on Esteban's paper describe a structure of a relatively full Italian meal with all its main courses. Primo refers to the first course, secondo refers to the second, and if you want to find out what the rest mean, look up Meal Structure under Italian Cuisine in Wikipedia. It details everything nicely for you there.

One of my purposes of writing this story is also to open up the written experience of fine dining to all you readers, so I honestly hope you are enjoying this Fanfic. Of course, comments and reviews are greatly, greatly appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	4. Chapter 3

**Food Therapy – Chapter 3**

The last diners with reservations had finally finished their meals. Satisfied, the enthusiastic diners had settled their payments and gotten into their cars, driving back towards their homes in the suburbs and the city.

It was time for the monthly staff debrief.

In the dining room sat the waiters, awaiting the arrival of their boss. Minutes later, they were joined by the kitchen staff, which had just finished cleaning up their workbenches after the night's busy service. The barkeep had closed his bar early for the evening and was seated on one of the swivel stools placed in front of the counter. The maître d' stood up from his seat and directed the kitchen staff to seats directly adjacent the waiting staff, leaving behind an empty space in between the two.

That space, Esteban knew, would be used by the executive chef cum owner.

Zack gently pushed open the doors to the kitchen. Instantaneously all seated in the dining room looked up, awaiting his presence amongst them. Zack sauntered slowly over to the staff.

The expression on his face was unreadable.

Esteban had a sudden sense of trepidation.

Stopping his gait at the center of the partial circle made by the seated staff, Zack made a quick visual count of the people around him. All seemed to be present. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he extracted a piece of paper with rough scribbles on them, clearly the agenda for the evening. Clearing his throat, he spoke.

"Debrief for the month of October, 2016."

The staff exchanged nervous glances. It was usually impossible to tell if the executive chef had good or bad news, as he always used the same facial expression and vocal quality when addressing them during the monthly debriefs.

"I've calculated the revenue earned by the restaurant and bar. Factoring in the money spent for rent, ingredients, and utilities…"

There was collective holding of breaths as the air seemed to stand still.

"…profits are up 15%."

There was a uniform release of the held breaths as Zack allowed a small smile to creep onto his face.

"Nice work, everybody. Now, on to staffing matters."

The tension was back as everyone recalled that their livelihoods were in the hands of the man standing in front of them.

"I have realized that as profits have gone up, so have the number of reservations and customers dining at our restaurant. I believe most of you understand that it's difficult to properly seat customers and calm the waiting diners who arrive without reservations."

The waiting staff nodded in understanding.

"Therefore, I feel that our restaurant cannot do without a floor manager, someone to look after the administration of the entire dining area, any longer. I should have actually made this appointment a long time ago, as somebody here has been working beyond his required capacity to attempt to manage the restaurant. A de facto floor manager, if you all will. Now, I want to officially instate his position. Esteban, I am promoting you to the title of floor manager."

There was a smattering of applause from the waiting staff as they cheered happily for their new supervisor. Zack couldn't have picked a better man to do the job. Esteban, who was flabbergasted by the sudden recognition that Zack had given up, took a while to find his voice.

"Thank you, Chef."

"Unfortunately, I haven't made a decision on the new maître d' yet, therefore would it be alright if you still held on to that position as well? Just continue doing the good job you've been doing for the past half year and everything should be fine."

"Of course, Chef. No problem at all."

After a few more minor matters the staff were dismissed for the night. One by one they bid farewell to their new floor manager and took their leave. Zack brought Esteban to the side and placed a bunch of keys in his hands. Esteban's eyes widened as he realized they were the keys to the front doors of the restaurant.

"I trust you fully, Esteban. I'll leave you to lock up the front doors after service every night. I'll handle the kitchen myself."

"Yes, Chef."

"We'll discuss your new post and your paycheck tomorrow."

Zack patted the manager on his back and walked off into the kitchen. Esteban sighed contentedly. The debrief had been less harrowing than he had expected. He recalled the first few months from the opening of the restaurant, where money had been slow to come in and the executive chef had constantly been frustrated by monetary worries. He seemed a lot less tense now that profits were being made.

Esteban loosened his tie and looked at the clock. In another 10 minutes he would be locking the doors to the restaurant by himself for the first time. It was testament to his hard work that Zack had awarded him this level of trust and respect. Esteban smiled to himself as he felt a sudden burst of rightfully deserved pride.

He then looked out the front door. What he saw made him frown, surprised.

A red convertible had just stopped in the restaurant parking lot. The man who stepped out of the vehicle was familiar to Esteban, who had just seen the same person a week ago. He looked as fatigued as ever.

Cody stepped up to the aubergine-colored porch. Closing time was mere minutes away.

* * *

><p>Minutes later, Cody found himself seated at the same table he had found himself at a week ago. The maître d' had, as in the previous week, taken his order and proceeded to walk towards the kitchen, the doors shutting behind him. There was a sense of déjà vu, with the exception of the fact that the dining area now seemingly more empty than before, with not a single member of the waiting staff present.<p>

Cody appreciated the solitude.

Looking down at his reflection in the plate in front of him, Cody recalled the events of the evening at the hospital.

**Flashback**

"_Bailey?"_

_The young lady looked up from the coffee machine and turned her head towards the door to the staff lounge at the sound of the familiar voice. A pair of blue eyes, reminiscent of the past, stared back at her. She struggled to keep her emotions in check as she responded._

"_Cody! Hi. It's been a while."_

_With nervous fingers she picked up the coffee mug and sipped, willing the caffeine to calm her nerves._

_Cody looked at his ex-fiancee, mentally slapping himself for calling out her name in the first place. If he had not, he could have gotten what he wanted without drawing her attention to him. _

_The silence was deafening. _

_Now, he was forced to make small talk._

"_Yes, it's been a while. How are the kids doing at the pediatrics unit?"_

"_They are doing fine. Just delivered a child by Cesarean section. How are things going at trauma surgery?"_

"_Okay, I guess."_

"_I see."_

_The uncomfortable silence that had drifted between them gradually grew heavier. Bailey finished her coffee and placed the mug in the sink, washing it. _

_Cody screwed up his courage. There was something he still had to know._

"_Look, Bails-"_

_As though knowing what he was about to say, she interjected._

"_Sorry Cody, I need to get back to work. There's a kid waiting for me right now, and I shouldn't keep my patients waiting."_

_Before Cody could respond, she was out the door._

**End Flashback**

Cody's reflection stared sorrowfully back at him through the plate. It seemed like nothing in his life was working out. Bailey clearly couldn't stand being in the same room as him. It was likely that she was still with _him_, the _third wheel_, lamenting her problems to him, sharing her more intimate secrets, the same secrets that she had shared with Cody a year back.

He couldn't bear the thought.

Bailey, the only girl he had ever loved.

Disgusted with himself and with the unfairness of life, Cody strode off angrily to the restroom located at the opposite end of the dining room. Splashing water onto his face, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Only then did he realize how old he looked. Worry lines were etched clearly across his face, and he swore when he saw a few grey hairs, not exactly appropriate for his tender age of 27.

_Get a grip, dammit!_

When he came back into the dining room, the air felt lighter somewhat. Walking back to his table, he realized that there was a glass of familiar tangerine-coloured liquid, a plate of white cream pasta, and a tired but welcoming maître d' waiting for him.

* * *

><p>Zack sighed as he scrubbed the cooking equipment which he had just dirtied, for the second time that night. The late night visitor from the past week, according to Esteban, had returned. Only this time, he was the only remaining chef in the kitchen.<p>

_Just my luck._

He was relieved when the order came in. Instead of ordering the two challenging dishes from the previous week, the picky customer had apparently spent little time ordering and had settled with one of the simplest items off the menu. It was a dish that Zack could remember by heart.

Fettuccini Carbonara.

Zack felt a twinge of regret as the name of the dish rang through his head. A suppressed memory threatened to return to plague his sleep tonight, but he pushed it back into the inner sanctum of his brain. He had gotten pretty good at that.

Now he felt tempted to smoke.

Withdrawing a cigarette from its box, he started the gas and lit it from the stove. The nicotine was appealing to him to take a puff. He was just about to place the roll of paper to his lips when he remembered a promise he had made himself just a few days back. Dropping the cigarette to the floor, he smothered the flame by crushing it under his shoe, before picking it up and tossing it into the bin. The cigarette stared back at him sadly from amongst the trash.

_Never again_. He returned his attention to the dirty utensils.

As Zack washed out the dirty bowl, a lone strand of pasta made its way out of it, detaching itself from the cream that adhered it to the side of the bowl and following the current of water that flushed it out. It found itself stuck at the sieve that prevented food debris from entering the pipe and contaminating it. Like a desperate worm, it wriggled. Zack picked up the piece of Fettuccini and stared at it.

_Another memory, another life._

Shaking his head, he tossed the pasta into the bin and continued his washing.

Minutes later, the kitchen phone rang. Frustrated by the interruption, Zack dropped the metal bowl into the sink and rapidly wiped his hands on his apron. The sound of it hitting the sink reverberated through the entire kitchen. Zack swore under his breath as he realized it was probably a late night caller who wanted to place a reservation and wasn't aware of the restaurant's closing hours.

He picked up the phone.

"Hello?" he barked.

Zack frowned as the person on the other end spoke. It was not a call he had expected.

"Yes, this is Ristorante Martini. I'm the executive chef."

There was more speaking on the other end. Zack's eyes widened.

"I'm…I'm sorry, you're from where?"

More words were exchanged. Zack was stupefied.

"Thank...thank you."

With shaking hands, Zack placed the phone back onto the receiver. He could feel his heart palpitating wildly beneath his chest.

A wide grin broke out on his face.

_Sonofabitch…_

Unaware of the invisible force that possessed his limbs, Zack began dancing wildly along the kitchen floor, happier than he had been in ages.

Outside in the dining room, Cody shared more of his life story with the newly promoted manager over a bowl of the most divine carbonara he had ever tasted, having found taste bud nirvana for the second time in a fortnight.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note - <strong>Nothing much to say this time round, however I would like to thank the readers who have very kindly reviewed the story. I'm glad you guys enjoyed it, and to everyone else who reads the story and likes it, do leave a review or a little acknowledgement so that I can get feedback and possibly improve on my writing.

Love you all.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	5. Chapter 4

**Food Therapy – Chapter 4**

News of Martini's latest success spread like wildfire through the culinary community. Foodies from country-wide found their way to the restaurant's doors, eager to taste food from the newly anointed "place-to-watch" before it succumbed to commercialism and increased its prices, just like other newly famed restaurants have done. That fateful night, amidst his solitary celebration after answering the kitchen phone, Zack had a sudden realization of what was to come. The reservations, that is.

And come they did.

If Zack had been worried about over enthusiastic reservations a month back, he would have been terrified had he known about the phone overloading situation the restaurant would be in. The reservations came flooding in after the publication of Martini's award a few days later, and didn't show any sign of ceasing. It became so overwhelming that Zack hired a secretary, set up a miniature office in the old storage room behind the restaurant, and ordered her to handle all calls. She was kept busy nearly throughout the day as the phone never stopped ringing.

For the first time since the restaurant's opening, there were reservations that came in months in advance. Esteban, having observed the obvious influx in the number of diners waiting at the front doors, was overwhelmed by his new double-position as floor manager and maître d', prompting Zack to quickly promote one of the hardworking waitresses to assistant maître d' and give the tired Peruvian some breathing room. The manager was relieved.

Esteban also suggested to Zack an expansion in the serving capacity of the dining room. Perhaps they could strategically move some of the furniture around, to make more room for tables and chairs?

In regards to this, Zack was adamant.

No extra tables would be opened.

Zack maintained his perfectionist, no-risk attitude that carried him through the past 3 years of his life. Not wanting to compromise quality for quantity, Zack refused to allow more diners into the restaurant in order to prevent the kitchen staff from feeling too pressurized than they needed to be. With more pressure came haste, which would in turn affect food quality, and Zack wasn't willing to risk anything when it came down to his food. Quality, he insisted, should remain Martini's top priority. The restaurant's unchanging dining room capacity also worked out in the restaurant's favor somewhat, with demand for reservations high as more diners treated seats at the restaurant as luxury, rivaled goods.

It seemed like the Michelin star was indeed well deserved.

Zack also gained a somewhat ambiguous fame as the executive chef of the restaurant. No diners were aware of Zack's real name, due to him being a stickler for privacy. His name remained off the restaurant menu, and newspaper publications and reviewers were forced to refer to him as "the executive chef of Ristorante Martini" and nothing else. Occasionally, they resorted to a certain moniker.

Nicknamed the "Shadow Chef", Zack arrived at the restaurant early in the morning and left an hour _after_ the restaurant's closing time every night in order to avoid the overly-inquisitive. Being overly paranoid regarding his privacy, he didn't interact with the diners in the dining room. In a situation where he needed to step out in the middle of the day, he always wore a large coat that could conceal most of his face, and sunglasses.

Inwardly, he was proud of what he had done. _If only mom could see me now_.

Unwanted fame aside, the food never lost its appeal.

One thing that never changed was the fact that close to no one wanted to dine at the last hour of the day, which worked out nicely for a certain emotionally unstable doctor.

* * *

><p>"Doctor?" the old lady croaked from her hospital bed. Cody placed the chart in front of the patient he was observing back at the front of the bed and turned around to face the elderly woman, feeling a slight sense of trepidation. His concerned doctor persona took over.<p>

"Is anything wrong, madam? Are you uncomfortable in any way?" He instinctively checked her IV.

The old lady smiled.

"No, sweetie. I just wanted to thank you for looking after an old bag like me for the past week. It can't possibly be easy, being a doctor."

Cody was surprised. It had been a while since a patient had given him proper acknowledgement for the work he had done. He smiled back.

"No problem at all, madam. It's my job to make sure you feel better. Thank you for saying that."

The old lady nodded before drifting off to sleep. After doing his round in the hospital room, he stepped out and shut the door, feeling happier than usual. It surprised him how much just a few words of thanks could completely brighten up his day. Greeting a passing nurse cheerfully, Cody tucked his clipboard under his arm and strode off towards his next assigned room, his footsteps lighter than they had been the past few days.

Almost immediately his cheerful demeanor was wiped clean by the sight of Bailey talking to the receptionist at the front desk.

Not wanting to face her that day, Cody did a 180 degree turn and walked back in the opposite direction, planning to take the longer but safer, Bailey-less route. Despite having broken their engagement nearly 12 months ago he still hadn't gotten over her. Internally, he slapped himself for reminding himself of the circumstances of their breakup.

_Get over her, you idiot! She doesn't want you!_

_But…_Cody moaned to himself. _I still love her._

_Well she's never going to love you again, so stop being a wimp and a woman repellant!_

An internal argument was arising between Cody and the disembodied voice in his head.

_Shut up! Bailey does love me still; I can see it in her eyes!_

_Why the hell would she love a geeky, overemotional little freak like yourself? She has someone else now. Stop being such a loser!_

_Okay, that actually hurt, _thought Cody. _I hurt myself. I am officially a psycho._

The praise from the old lady long forgotten, Cody realized the dark thoughts that haunted him on a daily basis were back for their usual rounds in his cranial asylum. Breaking away from his subconsciously planned path to the next room, he sidestepped into a washroom located along the corridor. Pushing down the urge to vomit, Cody tossed his clipboard to the side and rapidly splashed cold water on his face, willing the dark presence to go away.

_Come on, come on…_

He splashed again. The evil Cody started to giggle.

_Get the hell out of my head!_

Slamming his fists on the marble sink, Cody glared at his reflection. A few wet, blond hairs fell over his eyes, shielding his vision somewhat. The voices were gone, for the moment. Slowly, Cody turned around and rested his back against the marble sink, sighing heavily.

_This sucks_.

Walking to the nearby urinal, he unzipped his pants and began to relieve himself. Once finished, he walked back to the sink and stared back at his reflection for the second time. His blue eyes cut deeply into his own soul. They reminded him of how much he hated himself and how he looked.

_Maybe if I were more handsome Bailey would still love me._

Shaking his head, he pushed the soap dispenser and started scrubbing at his hands more vigorously than was required. Two doctors pushed their way into the washroom and walked to the urinals. Cody hardly noticed their conversation, focusing on his hands.

"It's late, isn't it?"

"Hell yeah, I've been kept busy all night, haven't had a bite to eat. What say we go get some food later after work?"

"Sounds good."

Cody continued scrubbing.

"Speaking of food, have you gotten round to asking out that cute pediatrician yet?"

"You mean Bailey Pickett?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

Cody's hands slowed.

"Yeah, I asked her out. She looked like she had been expecting me to ask for a long time already. She's pretty cute."

Trembling, Cody's hands found their way to the tap and pushed it, washing the soap away.

"Yeah, she is. That's the reason why our entire department is drooling over her, isn't it? Guess you struck first. What did she say?"

"Well, she-"

Cody didn't hear what Miss Pickett had said. Pulling the handle of the bathroom door towards himself, he stepped out into the corridor, slamming the door behind him. The emotional barriers that he had set in place to defend against being too personally involved in patient's lives fell short of expectations when challenged by matters involving Bailey.

Feeling himself starting to tear up, he furiously wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and increased his pace.

_I'm not a fucking crybaby, god dammit! I'm 28 years old!_

Inside the washroom, the two doctors jumped at the sound of the slamming door.

"What was that?"

"No idea."

"Anyway, she said that she wasn't really looking for a relationship right now. I recall hearing that her wedding got called off a while back, maybe she's still trying to recover from that."

"I see." The doctor scoffed. "Women and their baggage."

"Yeah," said his friend. "Maybe I'll try again in a few months."

Washing their hands in the sink, they walked out of the washroom and proceeding to finish their rounds for the night.

* * *

><p>It was near the end of another busy day at Ristorante Martini. The bustling restaurant had finally quieted down to a gentle murmur as only a handful of guests remained in the dining room. Esteban picked up the clipboard of reservations for the day off the podium at the front door and shuffled through the papers. 5 sheets of pencil-scribbled names and contact details, finished in one night.<p>

It was unbelievable how far they had come.

Detaching the papers from the clipboard, Esteban walked to the makeshift office of the restaurant secretary and opened the door. The light was off, as the secretary had left an hour ago. Stapling the sheets together, he placed the stack of papers and the empty clipboard on the secretary's desk, and at the same time picked up the second clipboard that the secretary had left for him. It was already full with the next day's reservations. Shutting the door behind him, he placed the fresh clipboard back onto the podium.

Behind him, yet another guest settled his bill with a waiter and walked towards the front door. Esteban opened the door for him politely.

"Thank you for coming to Ristorante Martini, please come again!"

The satisfied diner nodded his head and walked out into the cold night. It had begun snowing heavily in the morning, and even now the relentless white blanket covering the earth was continuously gaining mass as the sky showed no sign of ceasing its torrent of wet cotton. It was testament to the restaurant's success that nearly all of its guests with reservations still showed up.

Esteban shut the door and glanced around the restaurant. Finally, it was empty. In 20 minutes, it would be closing time, and the end of another exhausting yet somewhat satisfying day. Esteban called the waiters together for the short nightly debrief. The job belonged to the new assistant maître d', who had unfortunately called in sick that day.

Just as Esteban was debriefing the staff, he spotted a lone figure making his way up the porch to the front doors of the restaurant. The image through the glass panels of the doors were obscured by a layer of frost, but Esteban had near perfect knowledge of who the late night visitor was, recalling the day of the week. He looked down to his watch and raised an eyebrow.

Mr Cody was early this week.

Shooing the waiters away, Esteban straightened his tie and walked slowly to the podium, waiting for Cody's entrance. Even though Cody's repeated weekly visits for the past 8 weeks have always resulted in the manager joining him at the table for a chat, he still had to treat the guest with some manner of professionalism.

The door opened. Esteban's jaw dropped slightly as he realized his mistake.

As the visitor lowered the hood of his jacket, a curtain of silky blonde hair fell over the guest's shoulders. Brushing the snow from his hair, the guest blinked a few times to clear his vision, pushing his handbag further up his arm and looked at the manager with a pair of his soft brown eyes.

Sorry, _her_.

Esteban recovered quickly from his initial bewilderment. Immediately he greeted the guest, who responded politely in kind and enquired if the restaurant was still serving guests at such an ungodly hour. Esteban responded with the affirmative, and led the lady to a seat near the center of the dining room. He passed her the menu, and she browsed through it thoughtfully.

"I'll have the Pesto Cavatappi please."

Acknowledging the order, Esteban went about the usual routine of taking the menu from the guest and walking to the kitchen. Inside, the last few cooks were clearing up their dirty utensils, with the sous chef supervising them strictly from the front. Zack's workbench, however, was still messy with flour scattered all over the table top. Ever since he had started leaving the restaurant an hour after closing time, he had been putting that extra time to good use.

The Shadow Chef was working on a new masterpiece.

Esteban gently rapped his fist twice on the counter and saw Zack look up from the workbench, his brow furrowed in frustration. _That guy's back again, is he?_

Sheepishly, the manager placed the order on the counter and walked out of the kitchen without another word. Hands white with flour, Zack picked up the small sheet of paper and glanced at it. The dish was simple to make, and was a common order.

_Nothing the other cooks can't handle._

He passed the paper to the sous chef, who proceeded to arrow 2 line cooks to stay behind to make the Pesto Cavatappi. Walking back to the workbench, he dipped his hands into the bag of flour yet again and sprinkled it over the sheet of dough.

The flour fell on the dough like snowflakes over the yellow earth.

* * *

><p>Esteban stepped back into the dining room. All was quiet, as most of the waiting staff had left. The woman sat by herself at the table, fingers toying with her hair. She was silent, staring thoughtfully at the wall directly in front of her. Esteban spotted something akin to melancholy in her eyes and contemplated her resemblance with the as-of-yet-not-present doctor.<p>

Just then, Esteban spotted another figure through the front doors, knowing that this time, his guess would be correct.

_Speak of the devil._

The doors were pushed open, and the familiar face revealed itself from under the hood. Esteban smiled warmly as he walked towards the podium. He checked his watch.

"Just on time."

Cody's smile seemed more strained than usual, if that was possible.

Esteban raised his arm and directed the doctor towards the center of the dining room, where his usual table awaited him. The woman who was sitting directly beside the table checking her fingernails gave no acknowledgement. Apparently she had not heard the other guest entering.

As they neared the table, Esteban heard a gasp. Turning his head, he saw an expression of shock etched upon Cody's face. He looked absolutely mortified. Concerned, Esteban rested a hand on Cody's shoulder. Cody didn't appear to realize Esteban's hand touching him, the same rattled expression still on his face, his jaw slack.

"Cody? Are you alright?"

The lady definitely heard them now. Turning her head instinctively at the sound of the familiar name, the expression on her face grew to match the one on the face of the person she was now staring with bug eyes at.

"Cody?"

"Bailey?"

Esteban stood awkwardly between them, unsure of what to do next.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong> – As with the last chapter, reviews appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter, which is slightly longer than the others written so far. In case you were wondering, the Italian dishes I'm placing in the story are **real**, and they can be found in **real** restaurants as **real **food. Give them a try next time you eat out.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	6. Chapter 5

**Food Therapy – Chapter 5**

A plate of Pesto Cavatappi sat nonchalantly on the kitchen counter, waiting to be picked up. The kitchen had been cleared; the line cooks having finished their preparations for the next day and the cleaning up of their benches.

The sous chef said goodbye to Zack as he walked out of the back door. Zack hardly heard him, his mind lost in the abyss that was pasta. His hands defied the eternal debate between technicality and artistry as they made their way across the dough, encompassing the best of both elements as they kneaded the sticky substance. His fingers were akin to a pianist's, as they leapt across the invisible keys and produced delicious, edible music.

It was a feeling Zack enjoyed more than anything in the world.

Finally the dough was rolled into his desired shape, and he tossed them into the pot for cooking. As he looked around his workbench he was momentarily brought back into the familiar world that took up the past three years of his time. The shiny steel workbenches with built in ovens and fridges present in Martini's kitchen today were reminiscent of the only other professional location where Zack had prepared food. In his opinion, three years well spent in that one place.

The Culinary Institute of America.

His favourite class in the institution had been dubbed "Creativity Class", somewhat unimaginative in its naming but appropriate in its purpose. The class ran throughout the final year of Zack's education in the CIA. In the initial stages, it was a pain. The instructor, an aptly and stereotypically named Frenchman called Jean-Pierre, was a fiery personality that struck fear into the hearts of his students, with plenty of plate throwing and eardrum bursting tirades as part of his self-constructed syllabus. The instructor was hated and feared by nearly all of his students, although Zack saw a heart that was thoroughly meant for cooking beneath the man's tumultuous exterior.

For some reason, Jean-Pierre also saw in Zack something that most of his teachers through middle and high school had not seen.

Zack's forte, unfortunately, was not creativity. His mind had always been perfect for mechanical business and money making, but inappropriately tuned towards artistry and creation. His initial classes had been met with much disappointment as Zack failed to turn out dishes that Jean-Pierre didn't call "made from cookbooks."

As Zack's hands instinctively reached for the ingredients he needed, his mind shifted focus slightly as he recalled a memory in his recent past.

* * *

><p><strong>Flashback<strong>

The class filed out of the clean, industry standard kitchen. The students were slightly shaken, having bore witness to one of Jean-Pierre's usual tirades on a clumsy student. The man seemed to be in an even nastier mood than usual, having thrown a plate of foie gras at the student (who thankfully ducked) before tossing a few utensils and shouting him out of the class. Right now, everyone was eager to leave the kitchen. The Frenchman folded his arms and glared at his students sternly.

Right at the back of the line was a disheartened Zackary Martin, disappointed at his latest B- grade for the class. Though he discovered a passion for the art he was now studying, he had apparently returned to the downward trend that saw him through most of his classes in high school.

Just as he was about to step out of the kitchen, the Frenchman cleared his throat.

"Zackary? Stay behind."

Gulping, Zack stopped walking and stood still, afraid to turn around. What was Jean-Pierre going to do to him? Slowly, he picked up a bit of courage and turned his body to face the Frenchman, his arms still crossed.

"Sir Pierre?"

The master walked slowly to the student.

"I want to talk about your grades in my class, Zackary. Unfortunately they have been short of excellent."

Zack didn't need his teacher reminding him. It was already clear that everyone had at least gotten one A in the creativity class since its initialization, unlike himself. Suddenly, he had a sense of foreboding. There was only one scenario he could picture regarding why his teacher was suddenly springing this one-to-one meeting with him. The possibilities frightened him. Timidly, he spoke.

"Are you kicking me out of your class, sir?"

Jean-Pierre shook his head, much to Zack's relief.

"No, Zackary. I just wanted to tell you that I see more potential in you than you could imagine of yourself."

Jean-Pierre not scolding, but actually praising him? Zack couldn't believe his ears.

"I can sense your disappointment whenever you get back your grades for the assignments I assign for this class. For the past 6 months it has been the same look on your face every time I return your grades. You always look upset and insecure."

Zack looked down at the floor and nodded sadly.

"And I can't tell you how much it relieves me."

Zack's head shot up in surprise.

"Sir, I-"

Jean-Pierre held up a hand to indicate that he had not finished speaking. Zack fell silent again.

"Zackary, have you seen the faces of the other students when they get back their grades?"

Zack shook his head.

"When the ones who did not get good grades see their report cards, I see no dejection or unhappiness. Instead I see apathetic expressions, as though they are not concerned with the results they obtain. These students I highly disapprove of. These are the students that only desire to pass, knowing that even with just mere passing grades they can graduate from this institution and perhaps work in a restaurant as a line cook, or perhaps even set up their own businesses in the industry. It's a perfectly reasonable career path, and it happens all the time even with students that do badly. But there is one thing about these students that I absolutely detest."

Jean-Pierre paused for dramatic effect.

"These students do not know what cooking is."

Zack looked up at his teacher questionably.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Cooking is an art form, and it consists of two primary constituent elements. Food-"

He raised up one finger, counting.

"-and passion."

Zack pondered his words thoughtfully.

"One cannot properly exist without the other. Only if you possess passion in the art form will your food properly taste good. This explains why there are so many cooks in the industry, but only a few true chefs. The fact that you are disappointed in your grades is a good thing, Zackary. It tells me that you have proper passion in what you're doing here at the school."

Though Zack now understood where his teacher was coming from, there was still a thought within his head that frustrated him. Taking advantage of the situation, he decided to use this time to question his teacher.

"But sir, even though I do love cooking, I still can't do well in this class. I have never been particularly creative. How can I become a true chef if I am only comfortable producing food from recipe books?"

As though expecting the question, Jean-Pierre answered almost immediately.

"You are not uncreative, Zackary. You just haven't found your stimulant yet."

"Stimulant, sir?"

"Why did you begin cooking, Zackary?"

The question took Zack by surprise.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Why did you begin cooking?"

Zack searched his head for an appropriate response. The question had been direct, but was difficult to answer. Zack wondered how much he was willing to let his teacher know about his past. He knew that he had begun cooking not merely on a whim, but with one purpose clear in his mind when he had decided to enroll into the institute. Grasping the word he needed firmly, he let it slip from his tongue.

"Family."

Jean-Pierre smiled.

"A noble cause. Would you care to elaborate?"

Zack, whose aching heart had been dying to find someone to talk to regarding this personal issue, suddenly felt himself spilling his innermost thoughts.

"A few years ago, my family was broken apart by an accident. I become estranged from my family, and for the past 10 years I have not seen them." His breath suddenly stuck in his throat as emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

Jean-Pierre waited silently. Zack took a deep breath and continued.

"My brother…haw always been a natural at cooking. I had always admired that trait of his, albeit in secret. When the family broke apart, I was devastated and afraid. I was lost, unable to find my way back to them. Amidst the fear I found solace in the cooking classes I attended in my previous school. Preparing food reminded me of him somewhat."

Zack struggled to continue.

"Cooking reminds me of him."

There was silence as Jean-Pierre processed his student's words. Zack trembled as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Amidst the sudden wave of sadness at the recalling of the memory, there was relief at finally being able to speak to someone about the experience.

The teacher then spoke.

"Zackary, where does your passion in food tend towards to?"

For this question, Zack didn't need to think.

"The same as my brother's. Pasta."

Jean-Pierre nodded. Turning around, he walked towards the teacher's table. Zack waited at his original position, unsure of what to do. Jean-Pierre then knelt down and picked up a bag of flour that he had placed underneath the workbench. Gesturing for Zack to join him at the table, he ripped open the bag of flour, the residual loose white powder flinging itself from the bag into the air. Reaching into a basket kept on the bench; he removed 4 eggs and placed them alongside the bag of flour.

He then stood aside. Zack stared at him, confused. Gesturing to the ingredients on the bench, Jean-Pierre spoke softly but clearly.

"Make me some pasta."

Zack was slightly taken aback. His teacher apparently trusted him enough to let him work at his own workbench. Still unsure of what Jean-Pierre was trying to achieve with this impromptu assignment, Zack stepped forward to the flour and eggs, the procedure for preparing pasta dough running through his head. Instinctively, he reached for the 4 eggs and cracked them, skillfully and simultaneously, into a bowl.

Making a mound with the floor on the bench, he scooped open a well at the center and poured the eggs into it. Sprinkling some salt into the eggs, he started to work the eggs and flour together. Soon, he had smooth dough in front of him. Jean-Pierre nodded approvingly.

Just as he was about to start kneading the dough, he was stopped by his teacher's hand on his own.

"Let's try something different, Zack. Today, we will find your stimulant."

Zack nodded.

"Close your eyes."

The instruction surprised him, but Zack decided against not listening to Jean-Pierre's instruction and did as he was told.

"Place your hands in the dough."

_Is he humoring me? _Zack had the strongest suspicion that Jean-Pierre was making fun of him now. Hesitantly, he rested his fingers in the soft dough that lay waiting on the bench.

"Think of your brother."

Zack's eyelids shot open in shock, his jaw reflecting his consternation as it fell open loosely. He had no intension of purposely recalling memories that painful. Jean-Pierre merely waited, giving no indication of noticing Zack's astonishment.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but I cannot possibly do that. The incident that happened…we didn't part on entirely amiable terms."

Jean-Pierre pondered for a moment before speaking again.

"I am not aware of what happened within your family, Zackary, but I need you to reach into the depths of your heart to truly allow your passion to let loose. Don't focus on the incident. Try focusing, instead, on different memories."

Zack said nothing.

"The good ones."

Zack stared at his teacher before placing his hands in the dough once again, closing his eyes.

"Thank you, Zack." said Jean-Pierre. "As you work with the dough, allow the good memories of the past to envelope you."

Zack nodded, indicating that he understood. Jean-Pierre said only one more word.

"Knead."

Zack began to squeeze the dough with his hands. Reaching the barriers that he had planted in his memory, his mind's eye began to slowly remove them. Instantly, powerful images forgotten due to years of concealment came flooding back into his consciousness. It was feeling unlike Zack had ever experienced.

_A mental picture of himself and Cody on the beach, back when they were merely 6. The twins were playing tag with the waves, their feet hitting the warm sand on the shore and scurrying backwards as they made make-believe with the water that crawled forward and descended with the tide. Behind them were their parents, lying down lazily on a pair of beach chairs, soaking up the sun's rays, holding hands._

_The next picture came. Cody was sitting on his bed with his knees held firmly to his chest, sobbing silently. Zack, feeling guilty for the nasty prank he had just played on Cody, slowly walked to the bed and sat down beside his little brother. He swallowed his young pride and gave a heartfelt apology, asking for Cody's forgiveness. Cody looked up and nodded. The two embraced._

_Next, the two brothers walked into Suite 2330 for the first time, thrilled at the sight of their new home. Immediately they dropped their bags and started jumping enthusiastically on the couch, only stopping when their mother reprimanded them. Moving swiftly to avoid a lecture, Zack and Cody went into their new room and gasped in awe. It had been a while since they had a proper room to stay in. They high-fived happily and leapt into their new beds, testing the bedsprings._

_Another memory, then another, then another. A multitude of forgotten memories rushed forward and exposed themselves to their master._

_Cody poured 4 cracked eggs into a well of flour. After adding a sprinkle of salt he began to squeeze and knead the dough till it reached his desired consistency. He stuck his tongue out absentmindedly, as he always did when he cooked. Zack sat on the couch flipping between channels on the television, occasionally stealing a glimpse at his brother, watching his hands work the dough and wondering what ethereal masterpiece he was going to conjure up this time. _

_In half an hour the dish was completed. Cody carefully poured the reduced sauce over the two plates of freshly prepared penne. Zack licked his lips hungrily and picked up the fork, stabbing into the food greedily. Cody shook his head in mock amusement at his brother's inexistent table manners and took his own fork. Zack pushed the pasta into his open mouth._

_His taste buds were in ecstasy. _

_His brother really was a fantastic cook._

_Cody smiled at his older brother as he devoured his artwork._

A droplet of moisture hit Zack's hand, momentarily shaking him out of his reverie. Opening his eyes, he saw his hands moving in air, touching nothing, with a pile of beautifully shaped pasta sitting at his side. The dough was completely used up. Zack moved the back of his to his cheeks and was stunned to realize tears falling in gentle streams from his eyes.

Zack looked around. Jean-Pierre was nowhere to be seen.

Looking down at his finished work, Zack realized that the shape of his subconsciously induced craftsmanship was unlike any other pasta he had ever seen. It was unconventional, yet bilaterally symmetrical, and looked, as Zack could silently admit to himself, tasty.

Zack's first work that he could truly call his own.

From that day onwards, Zack never got a grade below an A in creativity class. He graduated 6 months later with a culinary degree and top honors.

It was to be the start of an exciting journey through an industry that years ago he would have never imagined himself being in.

* * *

><p><strong>End Flashback<strong>

A soft tapping shook Zack from his trance. Trying to clear his head of the intense reflection he had just put himself through, Zack looked to the side and saw Esteban, looking slightly nervous, at the window. Frowning, he spoke.

"Another order, Esteban? I thought we usually have only one late night visitor on this day of the week."

"Apologies, chef, but the earlier order was not for the visitor that frequents the restaurant. The person I speak of has just arrived, and he has ordered."

Zack shook his head. The sous-chef and his line cooks have all left for the night. Apparently fate didn't want him to focus on his new work today.

"Alright Esteban, just leave the order on the counter and I'll pick it up in a few minutes."

Esteban didn't move from his position. Hesitantly, he murmured a reply.

"Chef, his order was somewhat…different from the other weeks he had been here."

Zack raised his eyebrow.

"He wanted, and I quote, something that will surprise him."

Zack frowned again, getting progressively more irritated.

"He wants me to-" he then used his fingers to draw air quotes in the air for effect. "-surprise him?"

"Yes chef."

"So he didn't order anything from the menu."

"Yes chef."

"God dammit." Zack swore under his breath, both his palms falling onto the workbench with a thump, supporting his body. He didn't appreciate being treated like a servant that will cater to a master's every whim.

"I'm terribly sorry, chef, but he has already ordered, and I-"

"I understand, Esteban. But next time, please tell him to order something off the menu like every other customer."

Esteban nodded sheepishly. "Understood."

_Now what am I supposed to do?_ Zack pondered what dish he was to prepare for the irritating customer. Just then, his eyes drifted downwards to the work he had just been working on.

He realized, to his shock, that the food was completed.

_How in the hell…?_

Realizing that he must have unconsciously finished the dish while he was recalling the memory of his time at school, Zack took a step back in surprise. He was apparently good at creating art when he was in stuck in a stupor. Zack stepped forward and tenderly sniffed at the bowl of freshly made pasta. Carefully, he took a spoon and tasted the sauce that the pasta was suspended in.

It tasted heavenly, but there was something still missing.

In a particularly inspirational mood, Zack searched his kitchen shelf for an ingredient he had not used in a long time. Finding the jar that contained the ingredient he desired, he scooped out a generous dollop of the ingredient and placed it in the plate. After mixing the long strands of spaghetti around with a fork, the dish was complete.

All there was left to do was to come up with a name for it, but that could come later.

_Mister irritating customer is a very lucky man today._

Picking up the plate, he did a final visual inspection to ensure that everything was in place, and placed the plate on the counter, the last order completed for the night.

Outside in the dining room, the front door opened before closing again. A blond haired man sat at his table in a daze, wondering what in the world had just happened.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note – <strong>How was that? I decided to go with a Zack flashback, hopefully it explains a bit about Zack's past. I thank those who have replied to my appeal for help, and thankfully I have been able to make my decision regarding the relationship in question. The decision will be gradually revealed as the story goes along.

The Culinary Institute of America, or the CIA, is **real**, and obviously does not belong to me.

Reviews always appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	7. Chapter 6

**Food Therapy – Chapter 6**

"Will madam and sir be dining together?"

It was a valiant attempt on the manager's part to break the rapidly spreading ice. Cody and Bailey broke out of their interlocking gaze and looked at Esteban.

For Cody, the question though simple in light from an external point of view, was remarkably difficult to answer. For either of them to reject Esteban's offer to place an additional seat at Bailey's table would be a straightforward answer to the other party that all talk of the relationship was off limits, and the two would spend the rest of their lives trying to avoid each other in order to prevent future awkward situations. On the other hand, for either of them to accept Esteban's offer will be regarded as shallow and disrespectful to the other party should they not desire company.

An impossible dilemma.

Then, to Cody's surprise, Bailey spoke with a resolute tone.

"Yes, he'll be seating with me."

Cody threw Bailey a look of incredulity. Beneath his surface infatuation he suddenly felt a wave of nausea hit him as he recalled events of the past. She was the primary reason for the destruction of their original relationship. _The nerve of her!_ The invitation seemed loaded, and for a moment Cody contemplated turning on his heel and walking out of the restaurant.

But something in Bailey's fervent gaze held him back. The look she gave him was non-threatening, and to some extent, pleading. It was unfamiliar to Cody's memory of their original relationship where she had been headstrong, steadfast, and the unfortunate wearer of pants in the relationship. There was clearly no malice, and even if Cody had failed to spot it he could easily pull out her past deeds in front of her should it be needed. Love was a game of strategy.

Her eyes remained fixated on him. _Please, Cody._

Perhaps she honestly just wanted to talk.

Pushing away all doubt, Cody nodded to Esteban and accepted the additional seat that the manager pulled up to the table. Upon the seat of his pants touching the chair, he was immediately blindsided by Bailey's manicured fingers wrapping themselves firmly around his right wrist and hand. Their contact was eerily reminiscent of the time they had spent together. Feeling his face heating up, Cody found himself at a loss for words. He remained trapped in her gaze.

Esteban walked up to the pair with a second menu, and was absentminded waved away by the frequent late night visitor before he could speak.

"Surprise me."

Cody gave no other indication that the manager existed, his eyes never leaving the girl in front of him.

Understanding that this was probably a significant development in their relationship, Esteban decided against pressing for a specific dish and instead turned and walked towards the kitchen door.

The pair spent a few moments in silence. Then, Bailey spoke.

"I'm sorry."

The two words pushed Cody out of his daze. The nausea, which had thankfully receded back into his stomach earlier, rose again. His eyebrows arched upwards in a glare as he violently jerked his arm out of Bailey's grasp, infatuation forgotten. The urge to stand and leave was overpowering now.

"We were _engaged_. I don't think an apology is enough."

"Cody, please." Bailey pleaded. "It was my fault. I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Save it." Cody cut her off. "You and _Moose_," he spat, "should go and have a great life together. I just don't understand why you accepted my damn proposal if you didn't think we could be perfectly contented having just each other in our lives."

"But I think we can still work this out, Cody! I realize my mistake!"

"Bailey, what the hell are you-"

"We broke up."

Cody was taken aback.

"You _what_?"

"I broke up with Moose a week ago."

Cody found himself unable to process the information his ears had just received. He decided to say nothing. Bailey, upon realizing that Cody was waiting for her to proceed, continued speaking.

"Moose was being an ass, Cody. I honestly have no idea what I saw in him. After we started dating for a few months he revealed himself to be a self-absorbed, arrogant, uncaring bastard. I broke up with him after I realized he was cheating on me with someone else.

Cody found his tongue, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"How very un-hypocritical of you."

"Cody, please. I admit I was stupid."

Bailey always prided herself on her intelligence. For her to play the stupid card was, as Cody admitted to himself, inconceivable. Cody recalled the time when they were still dating. Though Bailey was willing to let herself go around him, the one thing which she would never admit he had an upper hand over was intelligence. She had always been overly competitive when it came to intellectual matters.

"I only realized what a huge mistake I made after Moose cheated on me. It was a mistake to let you go, and through the experience I've learned first-hand how painful it can be to have a lover be unfaithful to you. It really did hurt like hell, and I can't imagine what I've put you through."

Bailey broke eye contact with Cody and stared down into her lap, with her hair falling over her face. She appeared to be trying to gather her thoughts together. A shudder ran through her body. After a short, painful silence, she spoke.

"I'm sorry, Cody."

When she looked up, tears were rolling down her face. It was the factor that pushed all grudges aside and broke Cody's steely demeanor. Bailey Pickett never cried. Ever.

"Would you please…forgive me?"

Cody was flabbergasted. A weekly meeting with freshly made Italian cuisine had turned into an emotional rollercoaster ride. He was at a loss of words the moment he saw the wet streaks down his ex-fiancée's cheeks. Bailey looked absolutely miserable. Nudging away the nagging feeling at the back of his head, his past-adolescent sensitive side took hold and Cody realized to his horror that a _girl _was crying in front of him.

He was a sucker for that, and he knew it.

Melting away in her tears, Cody reached out his left hand and tipped Bailey's face upwards, causing her to make eye contact with him again. Using his other hand, he gently wiped the tears away from her face. She seemed surprised at the speed at which his disposition towards her had changed.

"Stop crying." Struggling with his own emotions, he couldn't help but let his tone remain somewhat harsh in an attempt to maintain the fact that he was still incensed by her betrayal.

Bailey stared at him hopefully, waiting for an answer.

Sighing, Cody pushed his palm into his face, contemplating his next move. Love was indeed a game of strategy. If Cody were to forgive her, it might mean that he was going to forget the past and instead focus on going back into a relationship with her. However, would he be able to forgive himself for being in a relationship with a girl who had so viciously ripped his heart out with her actions?

In an ordinary situation, he would have likely gone with refusing her apology and moving on with his life. It was the perfectly reasonable course of action. However, the other contestant in the game of love now had another card in play that was to be the deciding factor of the game's outcome.

She was crying, and Cody couldn't stand it.

Going against his better judgment, Cody hit the buzzer. Cupid, the judge of the competition, stared at him, waiting for his answer.

"I…forgive you."

Bailey's eyes lit up. She wouldn't be losing today. Cody Martin had just pushed for a tie game, which she was glad to accept. The two would return to play in the next episode, both starting at square one. She wrapped her hands around Cody, squeezing him tightly, and realized to her delight that his hands had found their way around her and were squeezing back.

"Thanks, Cody."

* * *

><p>Esteban was standing beside the closed bar, a plate of Pesto Cavatappi sitting on the bar counter. Just minutes ago he had walked back into the kitchen and picked up the plate of pasta, returned to the dining room and saw the two diners embracing. Not wanting to disturb the intimate moment, Esteban had gone with waiting till the two had separated before delivering the finished order. It took a while.<p>

Finally, they broke apart, though their eyes remained fixated on each other. Esteban picked up the plate and walked to the table, clearing his throat.

Their eye contact broke, with the lady glaring angrily at him. Apparently he had just spoilt a still lingering moment. Trying to ignore her piqued gaze, he went with the script.

"Madam, your Pesto Cavatappi."

He placed the plate in front of her.

"Thank you."

The expressed gratitude was forced and unpleasant. Esteban decided that he didn't really like this woman. Looking at Cody, Esteban also realized that he was slightly unsettled by the attitude she had just shown towards the manager. As though realizing that she was being judged, the woman let her expression fall back into her previous vacant, admiring expression. Cody seemed to be satisfied by that, smiling back at her with a mirthful expression. Shaking his head internally at how well the woman had manipulated the loyal customer, Esteban spoke again.

"I will be back with your order, sir."

"Yes, thank you."

_Dios mios_, Esteban thought to himself as he walked back towards the kitchen after deciding that company in the presence of the irate chef was preferable to standing in the crossfire of cupid's arrows. _Señor Cody has definitely found a…special one._

After entering the kitchen, Esteban was astounded by the fact that in mere minutes, the blank-check order had been completed. It was seated innocently on the counter, staring up at him. Zack was clearing up his workbench, using a damp cloth to wipe the excess flour off the bench top.

Even so, it was quickly clear to Esteban that the chef was deep in thought.

Deciding not to disturb him, Esteban picked up the plate and placed it on a serving tray. Pushing open the doors, he stepped into the dining room for the umpteenth time that night. He opened the kitchen doors just in time to see the front doors swing shut. Looking at the table where the order was destined to proceed, he saw Cody sitting alone, a dazed expression on his face.

The girl was gone. _Thank god. _

Esteban walked to the table and sat the plate down in front of Cody. He then realized an uneaten plate of Pesto Cavatappi on front of the adjacent seat, now vacant. Perhaps the relationship had turned sour in the mere minutes where had was gone. Deciding to probe a bit into what he had just seen, Esteban decided to speak.

"Where has she gone to?"

Cody, who just appeared to realize that Esteban was there, responded.

"She got an urgent call from the hospital and had to leave. She's a doctor, like me."

"Ahh…" The situation was apparently much less complicated than Esteban had imagined. Clearly he had been watching too many soap operas.

The plate of pesto stared sadly back up at him in all its uneaten glory. Before the thought occurred to him, Cody first voiced it, gesturing to the empty seat.

"Sit down, Esteban. She won't be coming back, and the food isn't touched. It really is sad to see food that smells so good go to waste."

"I would love to, Mister Cody, but our restaurant has a policy that the staff cannot eat with the customers."

"Never mind that. I doubt anyone else will be coming to eat anyway, plus its already past closing time. If your boss does come out complaining, I'll explain to him."

Realising that the customer was (always) right, Esteban hesitantly took the seat. Cody's smile was warmer than he had ever seen in the past weeks where he had patronized Martini. He then realized there was something missing on the table that had been present in the past weeks.

"Shall I get the Sprintz?"

"No…" said Cody, smirking slightly. "I don't think I'll be needing that tonight."

* * *

><p>The situation was unexpected, but Cody couldn't help but welcome the pleasant feeling that had come along with the decision he had just made. Bailey was, as a matter of fact, truly the only girl he had ever loved. Though she had made a mistake, Cody was sure that she had grown and gotten past it.<p>

_That bastard cheating on her probably stirred her somewhat._

Now they had gotten back together, and the world seemed like an inhabitable place once again. Cody couldn't have asked for a more pleasant turn of events. He was already planning for the to-be-revived dating phase of their relationship. It will take more time for them to get back into the mood for marriage again, but any wait would be worth it.

_Bailey…_

Grinning madly, Cody looked at the plate in front of him. In light of his almost jovial mood, the spaghetti looked especially good tonight. Esteban was looking at him, staring expectantly, waiting for him to take the first bite. He picked up the fork and twirled it around in the plate, the strands of spaghetti wrapping themselves around the cold metal. The noodles, Cody then realized, were coated in a layer of orange-yellow sauce. Its consistency was surprisingly thick.

"Esteban, what is this?"

Esteban looked at the plate where Cody's fork was spinning in. Though Martini's menu had a large variety of spaghetti, Esteban had never seen this particular plate before.

"I have no idea. I think when I told the chef that you wanted to be 'surprised', he made something completely off the menu for you."

"That's incredibly nice of him." Cody contemplated the kindness of the chef that had worked behind the scenes to prepare his food at such a late hour week after week. He picked up the fork, with the noodles wrapped firmly around its tines, and placed it into his mouth.

The taste shocked and amazed him.

Esteban noticed the stupefied expression on Cody's face, and was immediately filled with concern. Was Chef so angry with the constant late-coming of the guest, and upon hearing his unreasonable order that night, been pushed over the edge and added something undesirable in his food? Esteban prayed that the chef had better judgment. If there were any complaints, _he _was the one who had to deal with them.

"What's wrong?"

Cody said nothing, but instead pushed the plate beside Esteban's Pesto Cavatappi. Their colors of green and yellow significantly contrasted each other. Esteban used the end of his own fork to spear a piece of sausage that the executive chef had thrown into the dish for good measure, and smeared it with the mysterious sauce. He placed it in his mouth and was instantly hit by a taste that was extremely recognizable, but seemed so foreign in a dish like this that his brain refused to accept the fact that his taste buds have just sampled it.

Using his amateurish tasting ability, he evaluated the sauce. It was salty and sweet, an unusual taste combination in itself. When added on to the fact that it perfectly complimented the spaghetti, Esteban wondered how on earth the chef had been able to perfect this mismatched but delectable amalgam of flavors. In terms of texture, the sauce was mostly smooth, but after closer inspection with his tongue Esteban realized that it was dotted with hard pieces of what he could only assume was nuts. The sauce was sticky, gluing itself slightly to the roof of his mouth, and had a consistency that was unusually thick. Only one possible identity for the sauce came up in Esteban's head, but in order to avoid embarrassing himself, he decided to leave the tasting to the person with the proper palate.

"I can't be sure…what is this?"

Without hesitating, Cody responded.

"Peanut Butter."

_Score one for my inferior palate_. The taste of the sauce had been so undeniably distinctive that even Esteban, with his untrained tongue, had been able to identify it. Pride then quickly gave way to amazement as Esteban stared in awe at the plate in front of him.

_The Shadow Chef strikes again_. Another masterpiece.

Cody pulled the plate back towards him and picked up a spoon. Scooping some of the sauce onto it, he raised the spoon to eye level and stared contemplatively. He, like Esteban, had recognized the sauce quickly, but this time it wasn't entirely his palate's glory.

There were memories as thick as the sauce itself contained within the unusual combination of peanut and pasta.

It was a fascinating, yet slightly uncanny coincidence.

_A_ _coincidence_, Cody emphasized to himself. Cursing himself for ruining the Bailey-obsessed mood he was in with memories of the past, he went back into the plate and devoured it.

The seemingly disharmonized combination was absolutely divine. Cody Martin was pleased by Ristorante Martini and its mysterious executive chef for yet another week.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong> – What do you all think? Reviews greatly appreciated. Special thanks to ilovesprouse for being so enthusiastic about the story, and to all else who have reviewed this story at some point or another.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	8. Chapter 7

**Food Therapy – Chapter 7**

The new menu draft was complete. Finally, most of the food can truly be called his.

It was definitely a risky venture. Removing half of the original menu and replacing it with dishes that were unconventional was a move that could destroy the fan base of Ristorante Martini should they desire the traditional styles of pasta that had seen light in the dining room since the launch of the restaurant. At the very least, Zack had been strategic, only removing the dishes that received lukewarm reception and keeping the dishes that frequently attained praise from the enthusiastic patrons.

The change in direction had been inspired by Zack's frequent brainstorming in the kitchen after closing hours. His engagement with regards to invention got so accelerated that at one point Zack was creating one new dish for every single day of the week, driven only by inspiration and passion for his art. News of their boss's late night ventures into the jungle of the culinary world reached the cooking staff, such that the staff would sometimes purposefully clean up at a slower pace in order to catch a glimpse of genius at work before they signed out for the day.

Unconventional the menu was, but Zack didn't care.

It was what _he _wanted, and to him, such a change was necessary for the growth of Martini and his own skill.

The dishes completed every night were tasted by any remaining staff left in the restaurant after Zack was done. Most of the time it was Esteban, although occasionally a member of the cooking team or the waiting staff would grace Zack's food with his or her taste buds. Aside from them, Zack had no other available opinions to seek aside from his own.

The exception was the single late night guest that patronized the restaurant every Wednesday a few minutes before the official closing time. Zack had been told of the guest's seemingly impressive palate by his floor manager, and despite feeling slightly resentful towards the constantly tardy guest, had requested Esteban to offer him a freshly invented dish every time he patronized the restaurant, should he desire it. The guest never rejected the offer, and always gave a critique at the end of his meal, conveyed to him by Esteban.

Based on the guest's assessment, the new dishes were revolutionary, delicious, and to Zack's surprise, somewhat nostalgic. Zack had never understood the use of the latter term in regards to his food due to the fact that the ingredients he used were unlikely to have been used by any sensible chef, but he had taken the comment in stride.

Finally, the new menu was complete. Zack had spent a week asking the cooking staff to stay behind for a short while every night to go through the preparation process of the new dishes. Tomorrow was to be the launch of the new menu, and the press was buzzing endlessly about it. Speculations on the new recipes created by the Shadow Chef were all over the newspapers, but Zack had been careful not to feed the press with any information. He gave strict instructions to his staff that the new menu was to be kept mum till the launch date, and his loyal staff had followed orders from their general.

It had been a long day, and Zack was exhausted.

Finishing up his cleaning, he gave the spick and span kitchen a final visual check and shut off the lights, locking the doors behind him.

It was a cold night, and Zack was freezing. A check to his watch told him it was 2am.

Buttoning up his Harrison tweed jacket, Zack placed his hands in his jacket pockets and began to walk the short distance of 2 blocks to his car. Turning around, he realized that the lights to the front of the restaurant were already off. Apparently Esteban had left a while back. He continued his slow gait.

Suddenly, there was a swift, almost unperceivable movement from his side.

Zack darted his eyes to his left and saw nothing but darkness. Thinking it was just his imagination, he continued forward.

Another movement. This time, there was a sound of careful footsteps, and they were not ceasing. Slowly, the sound of tapping feet gradually grew louder as the unseen villain approached the executive chef. There was a sound of splashing water as the person accidentally stepped into a puddle.

_A mugger. _

Swearing inwardly, Zack pretended not notice the gentle intonation piercing the quiet night and continued walking, increasing his pace somewhat. He heard the person's footsteps keeping up with his pace. Looking around him, he realized that he was walking in the middle of a street with no alleyways to dart into. All the stores were closed at this time of the night, and there wasn't a single soul present. There was no practical way to run away from the mysterious individual should he try to attack him.

Trying to control his shallow breathing, he continued walking. Then, the footsteps from behind him broke into a run.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins.

There was only one thing possible for Zack to try.

Praying the attacker wasn't holding a weapon (though if the person really was trying to mug him, he probably was), Zack stopped walking suddenly and heard the person behind him slow down quickly. There was a sudden movement in the air as the attacker nearly ran right into his back, reminding Zack of how close he was within striking distance. Quickly taking a step back and swinging his entire body around, Zack threw out his fist in an attempt to hit his attacker, searching for flesh with his paw. What he connected with instead, was plastic.

There was a crack as the surface shattered. Zack reeled in pain and withdrew his hand back to himself, rubbing it with his other hand. He then realized that his hand felt merely sore, and was not bleeding.

The attacker was taken aback by Zack's sudden show of aggressiveness, and in his haste he dropped the weapon that he was holding up to his face. Stealing a glance at the object lying on the ground, Zack realized that it wasn't a conventional weapon. There was no trigger, no muzzle, and no bladed end. The object was small, with a disproportionately sized light attached to the top. It lay defeated on the ground, a large crack now running through the plastic that protected the bulb.

A camera.

_Damn paparazzi_!

Fuming, Zack looked upwards and saw that the person was now holding up another camera, ready to take a picture of the elusive chef. Without even looking through the viewfinder, he pushed the shutter release button.

There was a flash as a blinding light cut through the night.

Realizing the implications of the situation, Zack held his arms up to his face to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of light. Withdrawing his arm, he shouted menacingly.

"You bastard! I thought you were trying to mug me!"

Zack involuntarily threw out a kick with his right foot. It missed and instead cut the air. Shaken by Zack's hostility, the person decided that the shot that he had obtained was sufficient and ran for it, sprinting away into the darkness. In mere seconds he was concealed by the darkness, gone as quickly as he had come.

_God dammit_.

Zack rubbed his sore fingers. As the adrenaline faded away the severity of the situation quickly dawned on him. The idiot now had a photo of him, which he been trying to avoid happening. Knowing the press, they would be pouncing on it like hungry, filthy jackals. The only grey area was how well the photo had turned out. He hoped that his arm shielding his face had been sufficient.

He cursed himself for not being more careful.

There were personal reasons with regards to why he didn't want his photo shown to the world.

Staring down at the camera lying on the ground, Zack decided to use it to release some of his burning anger. Lifting up his foot, he heard a satisfying crunch as his shoe broke the camera and its flashlight into pieces.

* * *

><p>Cody frowned as he sat alone in the hospital staff lounge. In his hands was a newspaper flipped to the lifestyle section.<p>

**Picture of Elusive "Shadow Chef" finally captured**

The header blared out obnoxiously amongst the other articles on that page. Cody shook his head in disgust as he read the article. _The things paparazzi will do for a scoop_. The article was trashily written, mostly being a long running expose on the history of Ristorante Martini, including additional re-written information on the launch of its new menu and speculations on its new dishes.

All this information was old hat to Cody, who frequently read the papers. He knew that it was merely a buffer for the important picture that lay ahead. The newspaper had strategically placed the captured picture on the next page, such that readers would read the article and get a background on the restaurant before viewing its executive chef.

He flipped over the page in slight anticipation, as he realized he was about to see the man who cooked the food that had seen him through many a lonely night.

A huge disappointment.

The person in the picture had apparently seen the paparazzi coming, and he raised an arm in front of his eyes just before the shot. The picture had clearly been taken hastily, being slightly blurred, as though the cameraman had been unable to focus his lens properly before pushing the shutter.

All in all, the picture didn't reveal much about the Shadow Chef at all, in fact perhaps somewhat personifying him further as a shadow, due to some of his body being darker than others, leading Cody to deduce that the picture had been taken at night.

_Pathetic,_ thought Cody. The Shadow Chef's identity remains concealed.

However, there was something about the picture that was slightly unsettling, though Cody couldn't put his finger on it. Cody placed the paper closer to his face and stared directly at the picture of the man hiding his eyes from the paparazzi. It gave him an odd feeling which he couldn't describe.

_Nostalgia?_

That couldn't be it. Cody shook his head and focused on the picture again. Drawing a finger across the shielded face on the paper, he distracted mumbled to himself.

"Shadow Chef…"

A sudden beeping and vibrating from his pocket shook him out of his stupor. Placing the paper down onto the table, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone to check his received message.

_From: Bails_

_Hey Cody! I just got a call from one of my patient's parents; apparently the family has to leave for another state tomorrow for a few weeks and forgot to tell me to schedule another appointment. I'm seeing them in about an hour, so I'll have to cancel out date for tonight. Really really sorry! I'll make it up to you tomorrow I promise. Miss you! _

_Damn_, thought Cody. _Alone again tonight_. It had been a week since the couple had made amends in the restaurant, but it had been difficult to find a time for just both of them due to their busy and erratic working schedules. Doctors had it tough.

Then again, Cody was thankful for the second chance at giving the relationship a try.

He checked his watch and realized it was nearly time to knock off. Now that his date had been cancelled, there was only one probable place to be on a Wednesday night.

* * *

><p>The hoard of enthusiastic diners, famished at the beginning of the night and thirsting for Shadow Chef's new appetizers, entrées and desserts, finally left Ristorante Martini completed satisfied. The chef did not disappoint. As though happy that his picture in the day's newspaper had not been good enough to expose his identity, he had pulled out all the stops and ran the kitchen like a well-oiled machine that night, churning out self-created dishes that left customers in the dining room screaming for more.<p>

Relaunch night had been a huge success.

Finally things had quieted down as the final hour of the day approached. The waiting staff cleaned up the remaining few tables and sat down at the bar, exhausted but exhilarated. In the kitchen, Zack applauded his entire cooking staff for not making a single mistake throughout the night's service. The rare praise was greatly welcomed by the cooks.

Esteban finished debriefing the waiting staff and dismissed them for the night. They left happily, chattering amongst themselves. It was to be a holiday for them tomorrow, as Zack had decided to close up the restaurant for the day after the new menu is released in order to properly review the customer comment cards with Esteban. Esteban wouldn't get a break due to his position as manager, however he was happy to serve.

The restaurant's reputation, already great, had been catapulted to even greater heights after tonight. There was surely to be an article tomorrow in the papers written by the food critic who had visited the restaurant earlier that night, and judging by the wide smile on the woman's face, Esteban was expecting her review to be nothing short of fantastic. He wouldn't even be surprised if the restaurant got another call from the Michelin Guide.

Zack's plan had been a success.

However, Esteban knew his night was not yet over. There was a part of the restaurant's schedule that, despite change to its menu, would not be affected. Checking his watch, he counted down the minutes to the time which he had allocated for the event every Wednesday night.

Right on schedule, the front door swung open.

Cody seemed happier than he had ever been stepping into the restaurant. Esteban attributed it to him making up with his girlfriend a week ago in this very place. He smiled.

"Cody! You have come, and right on time."

"Nice to see you, Esteban. How was relaunch night?"

"It went fantastically. I haven't spoken to the chef yet, but I'm sure he'll be quite happy to read the comment cards tomorrow. I've taken a peak through some of them, and so far its looking good."

"That's great! I'm glad for you guys."

Chatting jovially, the pair walked up to the same table that Cody made use of every Wednesday night. Sitting down, Cody stared up at the manager expectantly.

"So…another 'surprise me' dish from the executive chef this evening?" He stated playfully.

"Actually", said Esteban, "I think Chef would prefer it if you ordered something from our new menu this evening. I think he's also pretty tired, so he probably won't be attempting anything new this evening."

"Oh, that's fine." Cody took the newly printed menu from Esteban's hands. Scanning rapidly through the appetizers, he flipped over the page to look at the entrees. Based on the descriptions, he started to notice familiar dishes that he had tasted before, but had previously not been named by the chef. The names were in Italian, but he was fluent, and voiced them out in English.

"Mint Mushroom Risotto…Zuppa Toscana…Shrimp Aglio Olio with hollandaise sauce…"

He continued looking through the list and mumbling the names absentmindedly. Esteban waited patiently beside him. As he went further down the list, the menu items clearly became more unorthodox.

"Sour Cream and Onion Ravioli...Peanut Butter Spaghetti..."

His eyes nearly missed a certain esoteric item on the menu.

Doubling back, he reread the line.

And read it again.

"What the…"

The line lay innocently on the paper, clear as day.

**Lasagne di manzo con salsa al cioccolato bianco**

_Beef lasagna with white chocolate sauce._

_Son of a bitch._

Cody's heart started pounded wildly beneath his chest. If this was a coincidence, it was the wildest, most unimaginable one ever.

The thought of it actually happening had never occurred to him before.

_Could this actually be possible?_

Trembling slightly, Cody voiced out his order to Esteban, who wrote it down and walked into the kitchen. Cody hardly noticed him leave.

Everything now seemed a blur. Time slowed itself to a crawl as Cody tried to control his breathing. In a few short lived minutes, his order left the kitchen and found its way onto his table.

He stared down at the plate. The Lasagna stared back up at him.

It looked exactly the same as he had remembered.

Picking up the fork slowly, he pushed its tines into the layers of pasta and beef. The white, thick sauce oozed out of the many layers onto the plate.

Just as he had remembered.

He raised the fork to his mouth.

A bite.

He sank his teeth into the pasta. The warm, melted white chocolate dripped over his taste buds, its sweetness engaging in an vehement rendezvous with the salty, irony beef. His taste buds screamed out in recognition.

Seconds later, he knew.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong> – Moment of truth is coming soon, but not as soon as you'd think. This chapter was pretty fun to write, and I did it all in one night, so yay me (London moment here)! I have an exam coming up in a few days, and I promised I'd not write anymore till it's finished, so that's the way it's going to be till Friday once my paper finishes. After that, I'll get right back to writing.

Reviews greatly appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	9. Chapter 8

**Food Therapy – Chapter 8**

**Flashback**

_Cody contemplated the kindness of the chef that had worked behind the scenes to prepare his food at such a late hour week after week. He picked up the fork, with the noodles wrapped firmly around its tines, and placed it into his mouth._

_The taste shocked and amazed him._

_Esteban noticed the stupefied expression on Cody's face, and was immediately filled with concern. Cody said nothing, but instead pushed the plate beside Esteban's Pesto Cavatappi._

_Using his amateurish tasting ability, Esteban evaluated the sauce. It was salty and sweet, an unusual taste combination in itself. When added on to the fact that it perfectly complimented the spaghetti, Esteban wondered how on earth the chef had been able to perfect this mismatched but delectable amalgam of flavors. In terms of texture, the sauce was mostly smooth, but after closer inspection with his tongue Esteban realized that it was dotted with hard pieces of what he could only assume was nuts. The sauce was sticky, gluing itself slightly to the roof of his mouth, and had a consistency that was unusually thick. Only one possible identity for the sauce came up in Esteban's head, but in order to avoid embarrassing himself, he decided to leave the tasting to the person with the proper palate._

_"I can't be sure…what is this?"_

_Without hesitating, Cody responded._

_"Peanut Butter."_

**End Flashback**

* * *

><p><strong>Flashback<strong>

"Hey Zack, come help me here in the kitchen."

Zack rolled his eyes upon hearing his brother's voice. Trying to ignore him, he increased the volume on the television and refocused on the wrestling match that was on. Cody, upon realizing that he was being ignored, shouted indignantly.

"Zack, you promised!"

"Fine, fine!" Groaning, Zack shut off the television and started walking heavily towards the small kitchen contained within the suite.

"I'm doing you a favor here, Zack. If you help me with this then we can say that this birthday lunch for mom is from the both of us. It's not my fault you decided to spend up the money we saved on her gift for video games."

"Or, how bout you cook for the three of us and we say it's from the both of us anyway?" Zack voiced out his opinion impishly, only to be greeted by a mocking smile on his brother's face.

"Nice try, wise guy. Start by separating those eggs."

Well, it was worth a try.

Zack looked down at the 4 eggs placed at the center of the table, wondering what to do next. Then, an idea came to him. Grabbing two eggs in each hand, he pulled them apart to separate ends of the table. Zack Martin had just successfully 'separated' the eggs. He shouted triumphantly at the successful completion of his feat.

"Done! See, cooking is _easy!_"

Resisting the urge to bash his brother's head in, Cody strained his patience to try and explain to his cooking-impaired brother one of the basic steps to cooking. Pretending his brother was a mentally challenged juvenile helped.

"No Zack, _this _is how you separate an egg."

Cody hit one of the eggs on the side of the metal bowl and pulled the two broken halves of the shell apart, allowing the transparent whites and round yellow yolk to fall into the bowl. Tossing the shells into the bin, he turned and saw his brother staring with wide eyes at the bowl. His previous assumption that his brother was merely a child was further emphasized by his next comment.

"Ooooooh…that was cool!"

Rolling his eyes, Cody gave Zack his next instruction.

"Help me pour some flour into the bowl, Zack."

Zack merely stared blankly at his brother. Grunting in frustration, Cody pointed towards the bag of flour sitting comfortably on the table top.

Zack proceeded to tear the bag open and stick his hand into the bag, withdrawing a handful of white starch. Unsure of what to do next, and slightly disgusted by the strange white powder, he opted with throwing the flour into the sink. Cody could finally tolerate his brother's cooking illiteracy no more.

"Ok, that's it! I'm teaching you how to cook."

"What? No way! Cooking is for girls, like you."

"That's incredibly sexist of you, Zack. I bet mom wouldn't be too happy if she had heard that. Besides, cooking has become a skill important to both males and females in the modernized world, where more woman are working and more men are looking after their families at home instead. In the paper I did last week, I remember researching about…"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Zack hastily cut his brother off, not wanting to listen to another one of his educational ramblings. All this additional knowledge was corrupting his perfectly honed lazy mind. "I'll cook, I'll cook! Just spare me the monologue."

Having won the battle (and found a method to convince Zack to help with anything should it be needed in the future), Cody was happy to slow down his usual pace of cooking to allow Zack some time with the cooking process. He was patient and slow as he explained and demonstrated to his brother some basic cooking techniques before giving his student an opportunity for hands-on work. Zack was a less than satisfactory student, having put on an expression of boredom since the beginning of Cody's impromptu class, but considering how Zack usually fell asleep during lessons at school, Cody considered his stint as a teacher a success, regardless of how minute it was.

The lunch for three was nearly complete; however, there was something crucial that was still missing. Cody only realized his mistake at the end of the lesson.

"Oh no! I forgot to prepare the carbonara, now we don't have a sauce for the Fetuccini!"

"What's the problem?" Zack absentmindedly played with the rolling pin that Cody had set aside. "Just make it now!"

"No no, you don't understand. It takes quite a bit of time to make the sauce, and I should have started at the beginning when I made the pasta! Mom will be home any second now!"

Cody became progressively more flustered, pacing rapidly in a circle around the kitchen. Zack watched Cody, and upon realizing that their present to their mom would be ruined if the problem were not solved, decided against mocking his twin and instead tried to think of a solution.

Looking around the kitchen shelves, something caught his eye.

"Hey Cody, why not some peanut butter?"

It was only after he said it that he realized how stupid his statement sounded. There was no way peanut butter of any kind would work with pasta. Even a complete novice at the culinary arts like him knew better.

To his surprise, Cody actually stopped pacing, stared at him, and raised a finger to his chin contemplatively.

"That's…not a bad idea, Zack."

"Wait, seriously?" Zack was flabbergasted. "Peanut butter and pasta? I was only joking!"

"Then you should joke more, and then hopefully you'll come up with more good ideas." Cody looked significantly happier now; having ran up to his brother and snatched the jar from his hands. "Peanut butter sauce actually works better with pasta than you'd think. Plus, it's fast and easy to make!"

_Ok, now this I have to see_. Zack stayed on the other side of the kitchen tabletop, watching his brother work. He moved at the speed of lightning, one hand reaching for the jar of peanut butter and the other grabbing the bottle of olive oil and emptying some of its contents into a bowl. After the additional of a few table spoons of lemon juice, some dry sherry and a dash of cayenne pepper, the sauce was complete. Cody wiped some excess butter off his hands and whistled satisfactorily.

Zack stared as Cody placed the sauce into the three bowls of pasta. "You sure about that, buddy? I'm not entirely sure that it'll taste good."

Cody smiled back. "Trust me, it'll be perfect."

Thirty minutes later, after their mother had come home and they had sang a birthday song for her (after making fun of her age), Zack tasted the peanut butter pasta and learnt never to doubt his brother in matters to do with cooking ever again.

**End Flashback**

* * *

><p><strong>Flashback<strong>

_There was a moment of awkward silence as both parties stared at each other, unsure of what to say._

_Esteban then decided to voice an observation he had first made when the man had first entered the restaurant._

_"If you don't mind me saying Sir, you look very much like our executive chef."_

_Cody smiled as he realized the maître d' was trying to make small talk._

_"Really? That's interesting. How so?"_

_"Your hair, your facial features, your eyes, they are very similar I suppose."_

**End Flashback**

* * *

><p><strong>Flashback<strong>

_The line lay innocently on the paper, clear as day._

_**Lasagne di manzo con salsa al cioccolato bianco**_

_Beef lasagna with white chocolate sauce._

_Son of a bitch._

_Cody's heart started pounded wildly beneath his chest. If this was a coincidence, it was the wildest, most unimaginable one ever._

_The thought of it actually happening had never occurred to him before._

_Could this actually be possible?_

**End Flashback**

* * *

><p><strong>Flashback<strong>

Cody stepped out of the bathroom and walked towards the kitchen, where he had last left freshly baked lasagna to cool. He had planned to cook lunch for his brother and himself so that they wouldn't have order fast food again. Cody had always been the more health-conscious twin.

Stepping closer to the kitchen, he was surprised to see his twin standing over the plate which he had left on the table top, back facing him. He was shifting his hands to and fro, as though he were using a fork to…

_He wouldn't start without me, would he? Why that little…_

"Zack!" Cody shouted in indignation. Zack turned around in panic as he heard his brother's voice.

"What?"

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you such a pig that you can't even wait till I'm out of the bathroom before we start lunch?"

Angrily, Cody stepped towards his brother, ignored his protests and shoved him aside to check the damage inflicted on the pasta, hoping Zack hadn't touched it too much with his greedy hands. What he saw made him freeze.

His deliciously red and yellow lasagna was now splashed with a thick layer of white. Looking at the bowl beside the plate of lasagna, he realized it was now half empty.

Zack stood nervously beside him, aware of how angry Cody could get when people tampered with food that he had been working on.

Slowly, Cody turned, his face alternating between a million shades of red. His jaw was clenched, as though trying to hold back the multitude of swear words that his insistently innocent mind prevented himself from uttering. Zack nearly cowered at the sight.

"Zack…what in God's name…"

Cody pointed to the plate of ruined lasagna vehemently.

"…possessed you to drench my freshly baked lasagna in WHITE CHOCOLATE SAUCE?"

Cody couldn't hold back shouting the three words that dictated the undesirable ingredient. Zack, despite being the braver twin who constantly picked on his younger sibling, knew better than to mess up anything his sensitive little brother loved. Cody's inner wrath, ready to be released at any venture, wasn't to be taken lightly. Seeing his blood boil beneath his skin, Zack held his hands up in surrender and fervently tried to defend himself.

"I saw the bowl of the sauce sitting on the table and I thought it was for the food!"

"Zack, the sauce was for a cake I was about to make after lunch! And who the hell pours WHITE CHOCOLATE SAUCE on pasta?"

Cody shouted the ingredient again. Zack winced.

"I didn't know it was white chocolate, okay?"

"YOU POURED IT WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING WHAT IT WAS?"

_Shit…this is not going well_. Zack was running out of ideas to explain why he had made the seemingly stupid move. He racked his brain for more excuses, but decided against spending more time just thinking after seeing Cody's face. The doppelganger standing in front of him was seething as he waited for Zack's next line.

He decided to go for the truth, as embarrassing as it was.

"I was…experimenting, okay?"

The answer seemed to take Cody aback a little, but he quickly recovered.

"Experimenting…?"

"That's right!" Zack started to pace around the tiny kitchen. "Remember that day when you spent time teaching me how to cook? I didn't seem that interested then, but you were a pretty good teacher, and after a while I realized that it was pretty fun to cook, especially after you tried using that peanut butter, which was pretty impressive…"

Zack trailed off as he realized he was tooting his brother's horn, something which he had promised himself as a 'responsible' older brother not to do too much in order to preserve his brother's less developed ego for his own benefit. Seeing that Cody had not spoken, he continued.

"…and I saw the sauce on the table just now and just wondered how it would taste on lasagna."

Cody looked up at his brother, his anger dissipating away quickly. Despite being furious about the contaminating of his food with the sugary sauce, how could he remain too angry now? His brother had just admitted to him being a good cook, and had been inspired enough to try something on his own. Hadn't adding peanut butter to pasta also been an unorthodox move?

In fact, now he even felt slightly guilty for shouting at his brother.

_Dammit Zack, you manipulative idiot!_

Sighing heavily, Cody walked directly in front of his pacing brother and stopped him. Zack raised his arms slightly, preparing for Cody's next outburst. It never came. Instead, Cody began speaking in a much more docile tone.

"It's cool how you were trying to experiment, Zack, but next time, why not try just cutting off a small piece of the lasagna and pouring the sauce on that, instead of drenching the entire dish?"

_Opps…_Zack realized that what he had done was indeed quite a stupid mistake.

"Well…" he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "You learn something new every day!"

"Also," Cody continued, "I'm…sorry for yelling at you."

Zack smiled.

"And I'm sorry for touching your food without asking you first. Won't happen again, man."

The two exchanged smiles, allowing their twin telepathy to take hold. No further words needed to be exchanged regarding the matter.

There was an awkward silence as both twins realized that they had just shared a rare, intimate brotherly moment, and both wondered what to do and say next. Zack was the one who spoke first.

"Er…you might actually want to erm…give that a try."

"Seriously?" Cody looked at the wet chocolate-soaked lasagna. It looked almost repulsive. "Zack, I really doubt white chocolate will work with beef lasagna. I mean, the sweetness will probably override the taste of the meat."

"Seriously. Dude, just try it. I took a bite earlier, and it's better than you'd think."

"How did it taste?"

"It's hard to describe, man." Zack passed the fork in his hand to his brother. "Do it for me. Just _taste_ the thing."

Hesitantly, Cody faced the plate. Taking the fork, he pushed its tines into the layers of pasta and beef. The white, thick sauce oozed out onto the plate.

Then, he took a bite. As he sank his teeth into the pasta, the warm, melted white chocolate dripped over his taste buds, its sweetness engaging in a vehement rendezvous with the salty, irony beef.

A pleasant surprise.

Looking at the smug look on his brother's face, he realized that perhaps just a single apology wouldn't be sufficient for his increasingly unjustified yelling earlier.

**End Flashback**

* * *

><p>Ristorante <strong>Martin<strong>i.

* * *

><p>Seconds later, he knew.<p>

The fork fell from his hand, clattering as it hit the plate.

Esteban looked up in surprise as he heard the sound, only to see a blur rush past him. The seat in front of him was now empty. In front of it lay a plate of lasagna drenched in thick white chocolate sauce, with a single bite taken from it.

Realizing the direction to which his customer had dashed, Esteban spun around in his chair.

"Cody, wait! You can't go back there! No one's supposed to see who the chef…"

Esteban was cut off by the sound of the kitchen doors swinging shut.

Cody had just entered the forbidden inner sanctum of Ristorante Martini.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong> – I'm sorry for keeping everyone stuck hanging from the cliff from the last chapter, but the moment was so significant that I felt I needed a flashback chapter to explain everything that has happened thus far leading to the Cody and Zack moment. I promise that in the next chapter, there will be real progression of plot. :P

Ok ok FINE, I broke my promise to myself, but this was much easier to write considering some of the flashbacks are repeats of past chapters.

Reviews appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	10. Chapter 9

**Food Therapy – Chapter 9**

Months ago, emotionally wrecked at the emptiness of his soul, and grieved by the reminder of the loss of his mother, Cody had driven without a goal in mind, eventually finding himself pulled to the tiny, surprisingly well-kept restaurant, with its granny smith apple walls and aubergine porch, and a sign, large yet unintimidating, welcoming guests to the haven known as Martini. The doctor saw the place through his windshield, its sign calling out to him silently like a quiet siren song through the dark night.

Cody couldn't explain the phenomenon to himself. He had never liked the colors that adorned the restaurant; however he had felt himself being pulled towards it, like a northern pole towards its south. Cody's first visit to the restaurant was done on impulse, an intense hunger that had hit him upon setting his eyes on the place, which he attributed to a subconscious attempt on his mind's part to fill up his emotional void with physical nourishment.

Now, however, he had a new suspicion.

It wasn't just hunger he had felt.

It was _telepathy_.

The lasagna, reminiscent of the past, had been the final trigger to understanding. And now, he was remarkably close to proving himself correct.

Pushing aside all manners, he ignored the shouts from the manager behind him. Nearly tripping over his own feet as he accelerated rapidly, he quickly regained his balance, dashing towards the doors that he had eyed numerous times while waiting for his next meal. He felt no emotion as he ran, only relentless drive, his brain telling the muscles in his legs to push forward.

In his mind one word rang true, its accompanying punctuation mark symbolic of the seeming impossibility of the situation.

_Zack?_

* * *

><p>Zack whistled to himself cheerfully as he cleaned up the remaining flour on his workbench. It had been a particularly satisfying night, with orders pouring in endless into the kitchen, keeping all the line cooks on edge and working at their maximum potential. There was a surge of adrenaline that flowed through the entire kitchen as the time ticked past, a feeling that energized Zack so much that he had vowed to try and make the united body of cooks replicate for future dinner services.<p>

Suddenly, there was a sound of the kitchen doors being pushed open quickly. Due to the design of the kitchen which positioned the kitchen counter perpendicularly from the door, Zack was unable to see the person till he stepped in front of the counter. Zack frowned.

_Another order?_

Not bothering to look around from his cleaning up, Zack continued wiping his counter and shouted.

"Esteban? Is there another order? The restaurant's actually closed now, you don't have to receive everyone!"

There was no response.

"Esteban?"

Silence.

"Esteban, speak up!"

Brushing off the last bit of flour off his workbench, Zack threw the towel in the sink and turned the tap, setting the water running. Picking up a glass which he had he left in the sink, he started scrubbing it. He then looked around and saw himself.

The image didn't register properly in his head.

_When did we get a mirror in here?_

Squinting slightly and wondering if he were hallucinating, he noticed differences between himself and his supposed mirror image. Unlike him, the image was wearing a black jacket and black suit pants. Its hand was clutched firmly onto the kitchen counter for support. The expression on its face showcased a painter's palette of emotions, amongst them shock, disbelief, and grief.

His mind was desperately screaming out the answer to him; however he refused to believe it.

The image then spoke, its voice shaking.

"Zack?"

The sound of the familiar voice, received by his ears for the first time in years, hit him like a cannonball to the gut. His mouth fell open, his lower jaw hanging loosely from its hinge. The blood drained from his face, turning him as white as a sheet in a matter of seconds.

_No…_

The doppelgangers stared at each other, neither able to garner up enough strength to say another word.

_No, no, no!_

The cup in Zack's hand fell from his hand, shattering on the floor.

A sudden fear possessed the executive chef. Zack turned on his heel and, without thinking, dashed out of the kitchen, the tightening strings from his white chef's jacket trailing behind him in the wind.

Behind the kitchen counter, the late night customer stood gaping.

* * *

><p>"ZACK!" Cody shouted as he jolted back into consciousness. The relentless drive, lost in the sea of emotion from a few seconds earlier, was back. Cody then felt the desperate need to reach his brother. His eyes darting rapidly from side to side to find a door past the counter into the kitchen. Cody found none in his haste.<p>

_What the fuck?_

Far away, his brother was gaining distance.

Releasing a string of assorted swear words, Cody turned towards the opening he could see. Allowing a jolt of energy to burst through his muscles, Cody jumped onto the counter, nearly smashing his head open on the large panel of glass that served as a barrier separating the inner workings of the kitchen from the area where the waiters walked to pick up orders and deposit dirty plates. Spotting the small opening at the bottom of the glass meant for passing completed orders onto the counter, Cody knelt down and squeezed himself into the kitchen, head first, miraculously fitting through the small gap. At the last moment, however, he lost his balance and fell sideways, coating his jacket with a thin layer of excess flour that had been carelessly swept onto the floor.

Shaking his head clear of stars, Cody got back to his feet and ran towards where he had last seen Zack. He pushed open the back doors to the kitchen into the unfamiliar street.

It was pouring heavily.

His vision greatly impaired due to the falling rain, Cody found himself sprinting blindly through the dark night. There was no direction in his mind, only a single goal which he fixated on. The street that he had just run into was completely unfamiliar to him, having never even driven past the backstreet of the restaurant before. In a desperate attempt to seek out his twin, Cody dug deep into his mind to activate the innate ability that had been weakly flickering for the past few weeks whenever he had stepped into the restaurant.

The twin telepathy, which had rang so clearly just moments before, failed to track down its runaway recipient.

He continued running irregardless, ignoring his visual disability.

The water mixed with the flour coating his jacket, turning it into a semi-solid sludge that increased in weight as it collected more water. As he realized it was weighing him down, Cody grunted his frustration and tore the jacket off his shoulders, flinging the expensive piece of clothing onto the sidewalk. All thoughts were out of the window; only that one goal still existed.

He continued running, refusing to lose hope despite the increasingly towering odds.

"ZACK!" Cody shouted out into the night. He was greeted by the sound of the pelting rain on the street. Stepping into the large puddles forming on the ground, some rainwater found its way up his pants leg and into his shoes. Shuddering a little under the cold, Cody continued running forward. Slipping on a particularly perilous piece of cement, Cody fell for the second time that night. He picked himself up quickly and continued dashing aimlessly.

The adrenaline was running out.

Completely and utterly lost in the rain, Cody stopped in the middle of the street, utterly exhausted. His legs buckled under him, and he fell onto his knees. Looking up at the sky, the rain didn't show any sign of weakening, as though mocking his helpless plight. The clouds laughed at him in ridicule from the heavens above.

Warm tears found their way down his cheeks.

_Zack…_

_Why the hell did he run?_

Deep inside, he understood.

Cody gripped his head in his hands and cried into his palms, feeling very much like the vulnerable adolescent that he had once been many years before.

Silence.

Then, the sound of an engine.

Cody looked up to see a pair of bright headlights cutting through the rain and gradually growing larger, headed right towards him.

* * *

><p>Zack breathed heavily as he rested against the wall of an alleyway, trying to catch his breath. Even with the pouring rain, Zack had navigated the backstreets of the restaurant many a time in the past and knew it nearly as well as the back of his hand, giving him a definite advantage in the game of cat and mouse.<p>

As the adrenaline that coursed through his veins faded, the disbelief returned with full force.

_Was that really…Cody?_

Somehow Zack still couldn't believe it. But even if it were not a hallucination, if it were true…

_Why the hell did I run?_

The answer was obvious enough. A flashback nearly a decade into the past screened into his head, going against his promise to himself to never dig up and recall the past again.

**Flashback**

"Guilty."

The gavel fell with finality.

Zack bowed his head as he heard the sentence. He had expected it, and knew damn well that he deserved it. A small part of him screamed for a more severe sentence, something that will allow him to greater repent and be punished for his sin, but the judge didn't cave to his inaudible plea.

The sentence was set. Zack Martin would be sent to prison for a duration of three years, a lighter sentence than one would expect due to the fact that he was still a minor. Zack somehow knew that the time he would be spending behind bars would be nothing as compared to the guilt he would be holding forever in his heart.

What he had done was, to society and to himself, unforgivable.

Mistake or otherwise.

Zack's lawyer walked up to him and whispered something in his ear, something about an appeal. Zack hardly heard him, nodding absentmindedly, willing for him to go away so he could continue wallowing in self-loathing. The lawyer walked away, and a pair of burly guards walked forward. One of them withdrew a pair of handcuffs, snapping them around Zack's wrists and placing his hand under his armpit, prompting him to stand. Zack didn't resist.

The audience to the trial glared at him, speaking in loud whispers and commenting on his sin.

_Sin_.

Zack swallowed hard.

They walked towards the doors of the courtroom. A police van was already parked outside, waiting to bring the next juvenile delinquent to the facility. The driver, dressed in uniform, was waiting at the wheel. The two guards gently prodded him forward. They continued walking. Zack looked down at the ceramic tiles that were laid down neatly on the ground, not wanting to look up to face the world.

"Sir?"

One of the guards had spoken. Abruptly, the two guards stopped walking, surprising Zack and nearly causing him to fall over. He looked up and realized that the guard was not speaking to him, and was instead looking directly in front.

Zack looked in the direction of the guard's eyes.

In front stood a familiar blond haired boy. His hair fell over his eyes, his expression unreadable at first glance.

Zack gulped. The other hurdle to face.

"Cody?"

Cody didn't respond. Instead, he continued looking down. His fringe continued fluttering in the wind, blocking his eyes from view. His jaw was obviously clenched, whether due to rage or otherwise, Zack couldn't tell. His hands were shaking, having been clenched into tight fists.

There was a painful silence as Zack waited for his brother to respond.

Cody tilted his head upwards. His hair fell to the side revealing his bloodshot eyes, tired from crying.

There were no longer any more tears. All the eyes seemed to desire now was blood.

He then spoke in a voice, low and threatening, that Zack had never before coming from those lips. A chill that followed cut through the air like a scythe.

"You killed her."

Without warning, Cody threw a fist outwards, catching Zack by the side of his jaw. Zack grimaced as his jawbone shattered and his brother's fist drew blood, the kinetic energy transferred from Cody's arm nearly causing him to topple over on his side if the guard had not held him in place. Cody continued flailing his arms, blinded by rage, dying to bring more pain to his twin.

Zack's bleeding mouth was nothing compared to the pain he felt when looking at his enraged twin's eyes.

The moment Cody had struck Zack, one guard stepped in front of Zack protectively, while the other attempted to restrain the boy in front of him.

"Sir, please! Calm down!"

There was no way Cody could calm down. Not after what _he_ did.

Zack sat down onto the ground and looked sorrowfully at his wrathful brother. There was no way he'd ever receive forgiveness now. A lone tear made its way down his cheek. He didn't bother to wipe it away.

The guard eventually resorted to pinning Cody down to the ground, arms trapped behind his back. It was the only feasible way to stop the boy from attacking their young charge. Looking at the guard directly protecting Zack, he nodded. The guard turned around, picked Zack up from the ground, and started marching him towards the waiting police vehicle.

Zack turned around ruefully. He only had one more chance to make this right. Looking into his struggling brother's eyes, he mumbled the final two words he would ever speak to his brother for the next decade.

"I'm sorry."

Cody glared back in hatred, before spitting out his reply, his tone dripping with venom.

"Save it. You're not my brother anymore."

Zack's heart fell.

After realizing Zack was safely in the vehicle, the guard released his hold on Cody and walked towards the van.

The police van drove away.

Standing slowly, Cody defiantly looked away from the van as it drove away into the night, hot, angry tears coming to his eyes as he recalled the Boston Herald's small article on the incident from a few days back.

_"Boston Herald – 14th June 2006_

_Carey Martin, headliner of the Boston Tipton Hotel, was killed after being hit by a speeding car. The car was, according to witnesses present at the scene of the hit-and-run, a blue sedan. If there are other witnesses who have observed the accident and have information, kindly contact the Boston Police Department at 617-343-4633."_

**End Flashback**

The rain showed no sign of ceasing, and it had been a while since his brother had started chasing him. Zack contemplated walking back to the restaurant and pretending the incident from earlier had never happened.

He knew, however, that it was not possible.

Cody clearly knew that he was the executive chef of Martini now, and therefore he would definitely know where to find him if need be. For a moment, he contemplated leaving the restaurant and doing another disappearing act, perhaps setting up a new restaurant far away from Boston. Something told him it was probably a stupid idea.

What was a man to do in a situation like this?

Zack kicked the wall in frustration. What he needed now was to drown his sorrows in a good glass of strong alcohol, or maybe a bottle. Standing up, he tried to block out the sad images of the returned memory and started walking back towards the restaurant.

The moment he stepped out from the alley, he saw a figure, barely distinguishable in the relentless downpour, crouching down in the middle of the street.

It didn't take a genius to realize that that person was his brother.

Just when he was ready to leap back into the alley to hide, he realized that his brother was gripping his face in his hands, as though he was…crying?

Rage was what Zack had expected, not sadness.

Before he could properly contemplate his next decision, he heard the rapidly increasing amplitude of an engine, followed by a pair of bright headlights cutting through the rain and gradually growing larger, headed right towards his brother.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note – <strong>Another chapter done! I honestly have no idea how well this worked out, but big plot revelation in this chapter which I'm relatively happy with, plus a life-in-danger cliffhanger. I understand it was pretty short as compared to the rest, but there was only so much I could push in. The flashback was clearly the plot highlight. Next chapter coming up soon.

Reviews greatly appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	11. Chapter 10

**Food Therapy – Chapter 10**

The car that rapidly approached seemed like a gift from heaven, a vehicle that would finish the job and put Cody out of his misery. In most circumstances the doctor would have seen the headlights and immediately bolted to the side to avoid a bloody collision, but in his emotionally wrecked state the car was welcome, its color reminiscently ironic as it moved on its path to liberate Cody from his devastated state of mind.

The doctor found himself hypnotized by the incoming headlights, and continued kneeling on his knees in the middle of the road, unable to submit himself to the flight response.

The euthanasia, crude in its definition, was welcome.

The car approached.

The movies and novels of popular director and authors dictate that your life flashes before your eyes right before deliverance, however what Cody experienced in his near death experience was nothing that pop culture could have easily predicted. They got it right on one count, due to the fact that Cody did indeed feel time slow as the car neared him, as though his mental capacity were accelerating in a desperate attempt to prompt him to move out of the way. Cody, however, didn't succumb to better judgment.

Movies would have demanded that when the car hit its victim, there would be a loud bang, a uni-directional trajectory which the body takes when flying, and perhaps the shattering of a windshield and the abrupt screeching of brakes, accompanied by an ensemble of gasps from a strategically placed cast of extras. In this scenario, however, the streets were nearly empty save for two identical individuals, rendering the latter point moot.

Instead of the gory mess that Cody had expected, he instead felt a desperate tug under his arms, a tug so strong that it practically lifted him to his feet. Cody didn't have time to look around to see what invisible force God had sent to give him a second chance, before the force forced his arms outwards and flipped him towards his side, sending him sprawling.

There was a loud thud that filled the air as his leg landed on the pavement, followed by a blindingly hot pain that shot through his limb to his brain, causing spots to jump into his vision momentarily. Cody gave a pained yelp. It didn't take his medical knowledge for him to know that he had probably injured his leg. Struggling with the pain, Cody rolled over on his side and pulled his leg up to his chest, hugging his injured limb with his arm, trying to make sense of the near tragedy that had happened over the past 5 seconds.

The car missed them by inches.

Beside him, his savior sat down hard on the pavement and eyed the person he had just saved, breathing heavily and thanking the deity that his brother had just requested emancipation from.

Zack looked up, eyed the speeding car that drove off without a care into the distance, and realized in mock horror that the offending vehicle was in fact a blue sedan.

_Of all the fucking irony_.

The rain had stopped as quickly as it had begun, the sky apparently having cried itself out for that night. What remained was an unintimidating drizzle.

A tiny voice from his side caused him to turn around.

"Zack?"

Zack looked into his brother's eyes and saw the bright blue that flooded his irises, similar to the shade that he saw every morning in the mirror, and yet somewhat different. Zack couldn't imagine how much he missed those eyes as he realized that it had been a decade since he had last looked into them.

The eyes, red then due to rage, were now peaceful.

Zack could see moisture rising anew from his brother's eyes as emotion took hold, the sensitive fifteen year old he had remembered taking partial control.

Oh, how much he missed that familiar look.

The mouse had just exposed himself to the cat, there was realistically no escape from here on. Timidly, Zack spoke his first sentence to his brother in ten, painfully long years.

"Hey Codes."

* * *

><p>The two brothers sat facing each other, backs against the walls of the dark, secluded alleyway. The moon was out in its full glory that night, being the only light source that illuminated the street that lacked proper street lamps. Its soft glow as it reflected the rays of the sun was therapeutic, providing a surreal atmosphere that seemed to lift away tension.<p>

It was exactly what the two brothers needed right now.

On one side sat the doctor, sitting in an odd posture as he attempted to keep his leg suspended above the ground, using his hands to support it to prevent further injury. He stared contemplatively at the other person sitting directly in front of him, dying to say so many things, but unable to open his mouth to express himself freely. What do you say to a person whom you have missed so much over the past decade, whom you have had indirect contact with recently through physical objects, and who had finally appeared in the most unexpected way possible?

No answer came to mind.

On the other side sat the executive chef, sitting in an unfamiliar defensive, half expecting the other person sitting directly in front of him to lash out at him like he had done a decade ago. Such a reaction would actually feel more comfortable than the situation he was in now, unable to say a word lest it be taken in the wrong context. What do you say to a person who had disowned you as a brother due to a sin which is understandably unforgivable, who had inspired the work which you had become so proud of, and who had finally appeared as though out of thin air?

No answer came to mind.

The silence was deafening.

Finally, somebody spoke.

"I thought you died."

The sentence was spoken in a casual, matter-of-factly tone. Zack looked up at his brother, who was now staring at him with an expression not unlike the one he had seen when he had been in handcuffs. The stare was stoic, calm, but seemingly judgmental. He was waiting for an answer.

Zack had none to give. There was no reasonable response to a question like that.

Seeing that his brother was remaining silent, Cody decided to continue talking in monotone.

"After your sentence was complete, I went to the prison to pick you up, but I didn't see you there. Asked the guard, he said you already left. I spent the next two years looking for you, calling up all our old friends and relatives, searching the places where you enjoyed going. I could never find you. It was as though you had never existed, had disappeared into thin air."

There was pause before Cody spoke again. The rage was starting to boil.

"These 10 years have been a living hell, Zack. Dad died, mom died, you disappeared, and I was alone. I went through the past decade doing everything alone, and I mean fucking _everything_."

Zack had never heard his brother swear before. He didn't dare to look up.

"For so many nights I heard voices in my head, telling me it was my entire fault that things turned out this way. I worked and worked to try and focus all of my energy into my career, to try and ignore the fact that my entire family was _dead_. I felt miserable, and I hated myself. I dreaded waking up every morning. You can try and be silent, Zack, and stay that way forever if you want to, but I want _one fucking answer_."

Without warning, Cody half stood on his good leg and threw his arms forward. Zack flinched as he expected a punch, which ultimately never came. Instead, Cody gripped the collar of his chef's jacket and pulled his brother up to his feet, glaring at him with intense eyes, boring into his soul. Zack shuddered slightly under his grip.

Cody spoke in a deadly whisper.

"Where the _fuck_ have you been?"

Zack looked into the eyes directly in front of him submissively. Ten years in hiding now came down to this moment. The eyes were threatening, deadly, but also desperate, waiting, _dying_ to hear an answer, any answer, from his lips.

Ignoring the dryness of his mouth, Zack spoke.

"I was guilty."

Silence. Taking it as a cue to proceed, Zack continued.

"I had done something which was, in my opinion, completely unforgivable. I understand that ten years ago, you hated me to death, and you couldn't forgive me. I couldn't find the strength to forgive myself, Codes."

Cody loosened his grip slightly. Zack continued speaking.

"Prison honestly wasn't as hellish as I had imagined it would be. What was worse was waking up every day knowing that I had a made a seemingly small mistake, and because of that my own _mother_ had to pay the price for it, and for that time, it wasn't just money, like when we broke stuff at the Tipton. I got out of prison and I was…afraid. I still remember what you said the last time we saw each other."

Cody flinched slightly as the sentence instigated the dreaded memory.

"I didn't want to face it again once I was out of prison."

Cody let go of his jacket.

"And I know this probably won't help at all, really, but I have to say this again."

Zack looked right at his brother.

"I'm sorry."

The silence that followed was tense, the air filling with Zack's apprehension. It was as though he were re-living the experience outside the courtroom, only with no guards and less violence.

The twins stared at each other for a few seconds. Cody then turned around, facing the wall. Placing his hands on his hips, his head shifted up, then down, as though he was trying to think of what to say next. Zack stood behind him, looking down at the ground, already knowing what his brother was about to say.

_I can't forgive you, Zack_.

_Yes, that's exactly what he'll say_. Zack had already resigned himself to permanent sin years ago, the feeling wasn't foreign, and the sin still remained unforgivable. Cody hated him to death, and that was clearly a fact. Why else had his brother not visited him even once in prison over the three years he had been there?

He had already lost his brother years ago. Tonight would merely be a refresher on the experience, a cruel joke played by fate to bring something he had lost back to him, then to snatch it away from him in an instant. He braced himself for the dreaded words.

What he did not expect was Cody turning around slowly with a shuddering lower lip and eyes so filled with tears that it was a miracle he could still see. Voice trembling uncontrollably, Cody gasped out a few, pain-filled words.

"Zack, you _idiot…_"

Zack didn't know how to react to the change in conversational tone. A single tear, a symbol of the grief the two brothers have experienced over the decade, escaped from Cody's eye and fell silently onto the ground.

"I already forgave you ten years ago."

Zack couldn't believe his ears.

"It was a dumb mistake, yes, but it was a mistake all the same. It's not like you planned on it happening, and I'm sure mom would have forgiven you a long time ago as well. _Things happen_."

Zack prayed he wasn't dreaming.

"And I missed you so much, you _fucking idiot_."

Cody threw himself onto his brother and pulled him into a tight embrace, heaving sobs having taken over his entire body. Zack, having been momentarily stunned by the contact, quickly hugged back, reveling in the brotherly intimacy that they had lost over time.

As he felt warmth on his cheeks, he realized to his surprise that he was crying too.

"Why…"

It was difficult to speak while he was crying.

"If you forgave me, why didn't you visit me in prison?"

They didn't break their embrace as Cody responded.

"I was guilty too."

Zack almost let go.

"You what?"

"I was guilty for whatever I said that day, Zack."

Cody buried his head in Zack's shoulder, reminding Zack of a certain childhood memory from when they were still children. The scenario was playfully innocent.

_Cody was sitting on his bed with his knees held firmly to his chest, sobbing silently. Zack, feeling guilty for the nasty prank he had just played on Cody, slowly walked to the bed and sat down beside his little brother. He swallowed his young pride and gave a heartfelt apology, asking for Cody's forgiveness. Cody looked up and nodded. The two embraced._

The moment they were experiencing now was a tragic, but welcome reversal of roles.

"I wished I could have taken it all back."

Zack squeezed his little brother tightly upon hearing that, never wanting to let go ever again.

Finally, he had found what he was missing.

* * *

><p>The two brothers found themselves back at Martini thirty minutes later after a somewhat emotional talk in the alley, where they were greeted by a somewhat surprised Esteban, who realized after they sat next to each other exactly how similar they looked. Cody realized after getting back to the restaurant that he hadn't broken the leg, instead it was slightly sprained, and with the kitchen having plenty of ice in handy it wasn't hard to nurse the limb.<p>

The brothers sat down at one of the tables in the dining room, neither eating nor drinking anything. Their supper for the night, their nourishment, was talk, and they thrived on it. The initial awkwardness upon the realization that the person each of them had been missing was there in front of them quickly faded away as the conversation got comfortable and took on a completely docile tone.

Cody, having found Zack, was thrilled and fervently shared his experiences going through medical school. Zack, having found Cody and received news that he was forgiven, was relieved and shared his experiences studying at the Culinary Institute of America. The conversation shifted to various different aspects of the twins' lives, as both Zack and Cody tried to catch up on the time they had missed together.

Esteban was unfamiliar with the situation, but delivered two drinks to the twins during the middle of their conversation. They were so engrossed that they didn't notice him, but absentmindedly sipped from the cups simultaneously. Their sitting postures, Esteban noted to himself, were nearly identical.

Disregarding the absence of the jumping on the couch, it was just like old times.

"I work at the Boston Medical Center, at the trauma department."

"Hey, that's cool! Isn't that where all the emergency calls go to?"

"Yep! Been working there for a few years, met a girl there as well.""

"Seriously? Great job, bro!"

Esteban watched from afar and smiled. For all the time he had spent working for Zack he had never before seen him so happy. He was unaware of the situation whereby the scenario in front of him was based, but he couldn't help but infer that both chef and late night customer were happy, and exceptionally so.

"Yep, her name's Bailey. There hit a rocky patch a while back, but we made up and we're seeing each other again. Oh yes, we made up in this restaurant!"

"Wait, seriously? That's pretty cool! Glad you're doing fine, man."

"How about you, Zack? Got any babes recently?"

Esteban raised his eyebrow. He wasn't used to hearing the two men, serious as they always were, use teenage slang.

"Naw, haven't had a girl in years. Been focusing on trying to get this restaurant on the right track to success."

"You're doing a pretty damn good job of it, I think. Did you seriously come up with all those recipes?"

"Yep."

Cody smiled. He had apparently been surpassed by his twin.

"I'm impressed, Zack! I must add, your recipes were good before I tried ordering off the menu, then they just got better and better. I was amazed by how you used the mint in that risotto!"

"Thanks, bro. Speaking of which, I really have to ask."

He looked significantly more serious now. Cody raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"What made you…erm…dash into the kitchen just now?"

Esteban looked up. He wanted to know the answer to that as well. Cody smiled as he recalled a long lost memory for the second time that night.

"The Lasagna."

Zack looked confused for a moment, before his expression changed from puzzlement to understanding.

"And it wasn't just the Lasagna," Cody continued. "It was the peanut butter pasta as well, plus all the other unconventional ingredients you used in your new dishes. They all reminded me completely of you. Maybe that was part of the reason why I kept coming back."

Zack smiled. Cody apparently had indeed missed him a lot.

For the first time in years, he felt absolutely happy.

It was a good day.

"Where do you live now?"

"In a small apartment not far from here. You?"

Cody grinned.

"You wouldn't believe it."

"Where? Tell me!"

"You seriously wouldn't believe it. After all, it has been ten years."

"Dude, if we were younger I'd totally go for your tickle-spot now, but I think both of us would prefer to, or try to, act like the mature adults that we are." Zack said in a mock posh voice.

Cody laughed.

"It's funny you should bring up 'acting like mature adults'. Let's just say that Mr Moseby really missed you too as well."

Zack's eyes widened in disbelief.

* * *

><p>Miles away, a man, burly and strong, tears the skirt of a young, petite lady. She didn't resist, instead amusing herself by slowly undoing his shirt buttons. She let out a piercing moan as the man gripped a particularly sensitive area, and responded in kind by nipping playfully at his ear, sticking her tongue out and rolling it around the auditory organ. He spoke out in between gasps as he covered her neck with kisses.<p>

"Baby, tonight we'll do what we Kansans do best."

She smirked.

"Yes, lets."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong> – Another cliffy! I apologise, but I've always been passionate for the dramatic. Anyway, this chapter was written within the day, and I've been feeling pretty productive, so you readers get to read it earlier than expected.

I realized it's very difficult for me to convey emotional scenes into words, but I tried my best. Hope this satisfies the last 9 chapters plot. It is far from over (obviously the two don't just meet and that's it). There's gonna be a bit more drama so that we can ease in the fact that the two brother have truly found each other again. I'll leave that as a hint to you readers.

Review. Please. I need critique.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	12. Chapter 11

**Food Therapy – Chapter 11**

Life was a bitch.

It was a substantiated truth, testifiable by every sentient being. Impossible to deny and impossible to avoid. The lifespan of every human on the earth, from the point of his or her existence to death, will be marred by numerous setbacks that will force that person to make decisions that could alter their future paths in life. Different people approach stress and setbacks differently. Some will take hold of fate by the throat, fighting back against all that stands in the middle of the path to success. Others will perhaps be submissive, accepting setbacks as the will of a greater being, and work towards avoiding future similar mishaps.

A smaller group of unfortunate individuals, scarred by innumerous great setbacks, might make the ultimate decision in an attempt to escape the wrath of downfall by stepping off the path itself.

It is a societal problem seen worldwide, and in an attempt to raise awareness of this drastically de-proving situation, the narrator has decided to take a different intersection (a road less travelled, if you will) by breaking the fourth wall (as he is doing now, but which he will end within the next few sentences) and extending the plot in a different direction from what it was originally intended.

This actually happens.

This is the story of Cody Martin.

* * *

><p>Freshly-ironed pants.<p>

Crisp black suit.

Black Tie.

_These are the ingredients for making a perfectly groomed date_, Cody thought to himself giddily as he analyzed himself in the mirror. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he reached for a cologne bottle and sprayed it into the air in front of him, walking forward and allowing the volatile liquid particles to engulf him. He set down the bottle.

It was to be his first date in a year, one that he had been looking forward to very much.

The previous few opportunities were unfortunately deterred by the fact that both parties were in an occupation that frequently demanded emergency calls, long hours and irregular schedules. The two had been unable to properly make a date, however they had finally found a simultaneous break in their schedules. Both took official leave from the hospital for a night so that they could spend it together, without the worries of their career.

Instead of a night of white hospital rooms and the odor of formaldehyde, they were about to experience a world of sensual pleasure.

Since the night was scheduled through special means, it demanded status as a special occasion, which explained Cody's suiting up. In some sense, it was indeed special, their first date since the unfortunate breaking of the engagement.

Dinner at Cody's favourite Italian restaurant, then a movie, then a ride back to her apartment.

Cody was excited, and rightfully so.

He has lost the girl a year back, now he was getting a second chance.

Checking for the last time to make sure he looked perfect, Cody then picked up the fresh bouquet of lilies, Bailey's favourite flower, and walked out of Suite 2330, shutting the door behind him. Reaching the ground floor from the elevator, he waved in response to Mr Moseby's thumbs up for good luck and stepped out from the revolving doors of his home for the past fifteen years.

It was raining heavily, but Cody couldn't care less about the weather.

It would only be a ten minute drive to Bailey's apartment, and there was only one last thing, or person, for him to collect before the night properly began.

* * *

><p>There was a collective release of held breaths as the couple released each other from their holds. The man rolled himself off the lady he was just lying on, and lay at her side panting heavily. It took them several minutes to catch their breaths, their bodies still stained with sweat, adhering them uncomfortably to the sheets on the bed.<p>

A rising discomfort bubbled through the woman as she realized what she had just done. Looking to her side, she saw the man she had just made love to grinning a grin not unlike the Cheshire Cat's and looking straight into her eyes with obvious lust.

"Moose, we shouldn't have done this."

Moose's face fell, and ignoring his blatant nudity he sat up and let the covers fall off him. The woman tried to resist her carnal urges as she took in his body.

"Bails, you were the one who wanted this!"

He ran a hand through her long blond hair. She tries to repress the oddly comfortable shivers down her back and failed.

She then turned her head to the clock on her bedside and gasped.

"Oh my God. Cody's coming at any second." She threw a hand to her mouth.

"What?"

"He's supposed to pick me up for a date in like…10 minutes!"

"Hang on a minute…" Moose stood from the bed and held a hand up in question. "You're getting back together with that doctor? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Bailey frantically searched her closet for clothes. "It's just that we ran into each other again last night and I got so caught up in the moment that I…oh forget it."

She started tossing dresses from her closet onto the bed.

"Look, Moose, you really need to leave. Cody will be here any minute!"

Moose looked angry now.

"Bailey, you're blowing me off after we just had the most _fantastic_ sex ever? And for that scrawny little excuse for a man?"

Bailey paused her searching to direct a death glare at Moose. "Look! What just happened happened on a whim, okay? And besides, you're the one who cheated on me first!"

"The same way you cheated on the doctor a year ago? How very un-hypocritical of you!"

Bailey then had a strange sense of déjà vu after vaguely remembered the same line said by Cody in a certain restaurant. Frustrated, she threw down her last dress on the bed in a huff.

"Moose, I don't want to get back together with you, and I definitely don't need this conversation now! I have a date who's about to arrive within the next 10 minutes!"

"Bailey!"

"I'm serious, Moose. Don't talk to me right now!"

"You're just going to blow me off, like some skanky little whore?"

Bailey gave him a look that could freeze water.

"Speak for yourself, you crappy son of a bitch!"

Picking up the pile of dresses from the bed, she walked towards the bathroom, throwing her free hand dramatically into the air and shouting as she went.

"And when I come out of the bathroom, I want you GONE, kapeesh?"

Without waiting for a response, she slammed the door behind her. The sound of it closing echoed throughout the apartment.

Moose stared at the closed door in disbelief. _The nerve of this girl!_ He contemplated putting on his clothes and leaving the apartment, treating her as one of many girls he had slept with and forgotten after the night.

Something, however, held him back.

* * *

><p>Cody whistled enthusiastically to himself as he got into his red convertible. Placing the bouquet of flowers tenderly on the seat adjacent to the driver's, he buckled up his seat belt and placed the key into the ignition.<p>

Before he actually started moving, however, he sat on the seat with his two hands gripping the steering wheel, feeling absolutely childish and silly as he smiled to himself.

It was as though he were on cloud nine. It was truly a fantastic week.

Firstly, the discovery of his brother as the man who had been working as executive chef in his favorite restaurant. Years ago, Cody had actually thought that his brother had died after leaving prison, being unable to find a single trace of him. The fact that his brother was not only alive but doing well was absolutely exciting to him. He couldn't wait to go back to the old days where they were able to talk as brothers about anything.

He had undoubtly felt some sense of disappointment when his brother politely declined his offer for them to move in together, just like old times, but he attributed it to Zack still feeling somewhat shocked from their sudden encounter.

Old wounds need time to heal, and judging by the rapid amiable turn of conversation between the two after they had embraced, perhaps a little more absence would make the heart grow even fonder. They needed to realize that although they missed their respective brother, each individual had their own lives to run now. Respect for that fact was crucial for recovery.

Secondly, _this_. He had never anticipated Bailey being remorseful about what had happened a year ago and _becoming his girlfriend again_. The thought of him so easily forgiving her misdeed still bugged him a little, however his giddiness at the upcoming date thrilled him so much that any doubt was pushed aside. The girl was undoubtly fantastic, being incredibly intelligent and incredibly beautiful. He would be a fool to let her slip away. _Every man's dream_. Completely smitten, he had himself utterly convinced that he was right in regards to his judgment of Bailey.

_She has learnt from her mistake_, he thought to himself. _Things are going to be great again_.

_This is going to be the best date ever._

He had no idea how wrong he was.

Firing up the ignition, he put the car in gear and slowly backed out of the parking lot. After checking his mirrors, he drove off into the night, looking forward to one of his happiest nights of the year.

It was still raining.

* * *

><p>It was a miracle that Bailey had been able to pick out her dress within 5 minutes. Trying to ignore her female hygiene alarm going off inside of her, she had immediately realized after shutting the bathroom door that there wasn't enough time for a bath, a shower, or even a quick sprinkle of any kind. Trying to smoothen out her messy hair, she snatched a random bottle of perfume off her bathroom shelf and put it on without realizing what scent she was wearing.<p>

She set down the bottle and stared into the mirror, feeling extremely guilty for the folly she had just committed.

_What have I done?_

What Cody would say, or do, if he found out, she didn't want to imagine. It would be a huge blow for him, considering this was the second time she had betrayed his trust.

Was she really a skanky little whore?

She then realized that she didn't want the answer to that.

Shaking her head, she checked her dress for the last time and opened the bathroom door. She was then appalled to find Moose sitting on the bed, still undressed, waiting for her. He smirked at her cheekily. Throwing an anxious glance at the front door, she then realized to her relief that it was still closed. Cody had not arrived.

"Moose! I thought I told you to go!"

"I'm not leaving, Bailey. What just happened between us…I can't just let that go."

Bailey was now hysterical with panic. Angrily, she stormed out of the room and towards the front door, holding it open for Moose.

"Just let it go, Moose, just let it go! NOTHING can happen between us! LEAVE!"

"You say that now, Bailey," Moose stood from the bed and threw off the blankets covering him, allowing his full male form to once again grace Bailey's eyes for the day. Bailey hastily tried to turn away, to avoid herself from once again being taken in by temptation, but ultimately failed as Moose ran out of the bedroom, stood in front of her, outstretched out his hand, placed his fingers on her chin, and turned her head back towards him.

They locked eyes.

"You'd had to admit that what we did just now…you _enjoyed _it."

Bailey found herself at a loss for words, a commendable feat considering her usual manipulative eloquence. She struggled to find her next words, not realizing that her voice was getting gradually softer as her body slowly gave in to carnality.

"Moose, please…I need you to understand. I honestly want things to work out between Cody and me! What just happened was a mistake!"

"I don't get you!"

Gripping Bailey's arms firmly with his hands, Moose glared at her scathingly. Bailey struggled to break free from his hold, but to no avail, the man having spent hours in gymnasiums toning his perfectly sculpted arms.

"What does that doctor have that I don't have?"

Bailey didn't answer, and instead continued struggling in his grip.

"You went out with me for a year! You must still like me somewhat!"

"Moose, please, I'm begging you, he'll be here any…"

Bailey was cut off by the impact of Moose's lips on her own. Her eyes closed against better judgment as his intoxicating scent filled her nostrils. Losing her astuteness, she found herself closing her eyes and kissing back, their hands now firmly wrapped around each other, squeezing tightly.

There were many players in the game of Love, a game of strategy, but Lust almost always reigns supreme.

She felt like a new-born child once he broke the kiss, scared of its new surroundings, longing to head back into the warmth of his embrace.

He looked into her eyes and smiled.

"I knew it."

Their lips connected once again. This time, Bailey didn't hold back.

Lost in each other's sea of pheromones, they didn't hear the involuntary gasp, the gentle falling of a white bouquet, and the heavy scampering of feet against the floor.

* * *

><p>The pain in Zack's chest hit suddenly, causing him to drop the open bag of flour onto the floor, the white powder scattering across the ground. Wheezing heavily, he threw one hand across his chest, gripping his white chef's jacket desperately, as the other hand made contact with his head as a terrible migraine began its movement through his head. He knelt over.<p>

Clearly alarmed, the sous chef dropped his knife back into its holder and squatted over, resting his hand on Zack's shoulder.

"Chef Martin? Are you alright?"

Zack couldn't respond. The pain was too intense.

"What's wrong with Chef?"

The sous-chef looked up and saw that the entire kitchen had come to a standstill, all the line cooks gaping at the sight of their leader kneeling over helplessly. A few of them took rapid, cautious steps forward, the ordinary kitchen industrial lineup of efficiency forgotten. The sous-chef, in distress due to his boss' apparent pain, didn't reprimand them.

"I'm not sure. I think he might be having a heart attack."

The line cooks gave a dramatic gasp in unison.

"What's going on?"

All heads turned to the counter and saw the restaurant manager looking unnerved by the sight of the usually organized kitchen in disarray. The sous-chef quickly stood and hastily shouted out a few words to him.

"It's Chef Martin! I think he's having a heart attack!"

"What? Oh my God!" Esteban quickly dashed towards the wall phone placed within the kitchen. "I'm calling an ambulance!"

"Esteban, wait!"

Everyone froze as Zack stood raised his body and stood back firmly on his feet. They stayed in their current positions, as though waiting for Zack to collapse again so they could catch him and prevent injury. Esteban stood with the receiver in his hand, unsure of the next reasonable course of action. The executive chef was standing, however the expression on his face was ashen, as though he had just received a piece of bad news. The look was unfamiliar to Esteban.

"Chef…are you sure you're fine? Shouldn't I call the ambulance anyway so you can get checked up?"

"No, Esteban. I'm fine. I just…"

Zack paused for a moment to gather his thoughts together. He then realized that cold sweat was emerging from his pores and coating his body with a slick layer of grime. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling oddly nervous.

_Something's wrong._

_What the fuck was that?_

"Chef?"

Zack looked up from his perturbed trance and saw the entire kitchen staring at him uneasily, waiting for his next command.

Outside in the dining room, the first of the night's customers started filing in. A waiter, unaware of the drama that had just occurred, popped his head into the kitchen and indicated to Esteban that the guests were arriving. Nodding in response, Esteban stole one last cautious glance at Zack and followed the waiter out into the kitchen, straightening his tie as he went.

Zack felt strangely out of place in the familiar kitchen. _Something's very wrong_. A nagging feeling, one that had apparently risen out from thin air, rose within him. Its urgent pull shook him from his trance.

All of a sudden, he knew what to do.

He looked at the sous-chef.

"I need to…leave for an emergency. Do you think you can handle the kitchen for tonight?"

The sous-chef, though surprised, nodded.

"You can count on me, Chef."

"Thank you." Zack looked at the line cooks, who had walked back to their stations. "Work with him, guys."

Without another word, Zack untied his chef's jacket, hooked it up beside the door, pushed the back door open and strode off at a rapid pace into the night. His car sat in the parking lot, waiting for him.

He hadn't seen his next destination for a decade, but somehow he knew exactly how to get there.

* * *

><p>Alcohol was supposed to work in situations such as these. Tonight, however, it was failing him at a time where he needed it most.<p>

Cody sat down at the edge of his bed, sipping from the glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. The wine was originally meant for cooking, however for tonight it had to double as morphine for the heart.

_Fuck life. _

Cody stared at the glass as he held it at its base and shook it lightly.

_Fuck, fuck life_.

The crimson liquid, its colour further darkened by the absence of light in the room, stared back innocently at him. In a burst of fury and anguish, Cody drowned the entire glass in a single gulp, ignoring the bite at his throat from the powerful liquor and a desperate cry from the last sensible portion of his brain to not harm himself. In a rage, he tossed the glass violently at the adjacent wall. It shattered into a million, sad pieces.

Cody lay down on the floor, scrunching himself up into a fetal position, never wanting to get up again.

_Fuck life_.

_Perhaps this is what hell feels like_.

As Cody lay down, he wondered what mistakes he must have made in his past life to be punished so dreadfully by the overlords that rule over life.

A dark feeling crept into his head.

The voices were back.

_Remember the divorce? It's because Mom and Dad couldn't handle taking care of you together. You were the reason for their separation. Weren't you happy about that?_

_No, _Cody desperate shook his head. _No, I wasn't_.

_Remember when Dad died? Perhaps he wouldn't have if he weren't travelling on the road, and if he were still with the family. It was definitely your fault he had left in the first place. You were secretly happy he had died, weren't you? You sick, sick child. _

_That's not true!_ Cody shouted at the voices within his head, which were gradually getting louder and harder to ignore.

_Remember when Mom died? She was probably happy to leave the world earlier. It was incredibly difficult to put up with such a useless child who was unable to protect himself anyway. I think God did her a favor by taking her away._

Cody shook his head again desperately, trying to rid himself of the demons within his head.

_Remember when Zack was arrested? It was probably due to you being such a useless brother that he was drinking the night he killed mom._

_Fuck, no. _Cody ground his teeth together in agony. He started pulling hairs out from his head in order to let the pain override the voices. It didn't work.

_Remember when Zack disappeared? He was probably too ashamed to have to go back to a brother who was so useless, so hopeless, so incredibly pathetic. He realized that he wasn't the black sheep of the family or the good-for-nothing, you were._

_Fuck, fuck, please._ Hot tears started rolling down Cody's cheeks.

_Remember when Bailey cheated on you and broke off your engagement? That was probably a good call. You should have been born more handsome, you ugly freak._

Cody let out a cry of agony. The demons were winning.

_Remember when you found Zack again? He was joking about being glad to be back with you. He probably felt more like shit than ever when he realized that he would have to deal with his annoying, pesky, little brother again. You would have done him a favor by not running out to find him that night._

_Is that…true?_ Cody questioned himself. He knew the answer was affirmative.

_Remember just now, when Bailey cheated on you again? Moose is probably more of a man you would ever be. Maybe you should try and find something who's more in your league, like a worm or a rock. _

Cody stopped crying.

* * *

><p>Life, in some sense, was like a pot of boiling soup.<p>

A pinch of salt here, a dash of pepper there. The things that are added to the soup can be regarded as the spice of life, contributing to life's little detours and sudden decisions.

Adding too many incorrect ingredients, however, turns the soup bitter and unpalatable, compromising its edibility. This, in some sense, can be related to life, where the additional of the final devastating blow can be detrimental to the integrity of life itself.

* * *

><p>He knew what he had to do.<p>

Trying to enjoy his last minutes of consciousness, Cody pick up the bottle of red wine and drowned half of it in a gulp.

Time seemed to slow. It was oddly surreal.

He walked to his medicine cabinet and opened its door. Innumerous bottles and tubes stared back at him.

Partially blinded by his earlier grief and his drunken stupor, he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a random bottle of pills. Struggling with the cap, he gave a final push and heard it pop open, the cap falling uselessly onto the floor.

He wondered if Bailey and Zack would remember him.

Pouring out pills into his hand, he took a deep breath, one of his last, and tossed the pills into his mouth. He picked up the bottle of wine again and drowned its final contents, washing the pills into his throat.

A sigh of relief.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note – <strong>Dun dun dunnnnnnn! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I apologise if it appeared as though I rushed through the Bailey and Moose bits, I do have to admit that I am guilty of that somewhat. Anyway, bet all you Bailey haters expected something like this, didn't you! Hopefully it explains why I added in that steamy scene in the last chapter.

Reviews appreciated and wanted.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	13. Chapter 12

**Food Therapy – Chapter 12**

Zack felt a terrible sense of foreboding as he sped along the familiar roads in central Boston. His black second-hand Toyota, old and not used to such speed, groaned crankily as its master pushed it desperately along the road. In its haste, the car ran a few red lights, obtaining various swear words from angry pedestrians who thankfully jumped out of the way, but Zack didn't notice them.

His consternation increased as he neared his destination.

Something was terribly wrong.

Zack had not felt such fear since an occurrence years back, the scenario now a distant memory.

**Flashback**

A young Zackary Martin let out a scream as a sudden pain hit his side, nearly causing him to topple over on his side. Upon hearing his young son's wail, Kurt Martin sprang to his feet and raced to his son, who was not crouching painfully on the ground. Fatherly panic took over.

"Zack? Zack man, what's wrong?"

He rested his hands around his shaking son as the pain slowly subsided. Once Zack found the strength to open his eyes, Kurt realized that they were filled with tears and fear.

"Dad…I think something's wrong with Cody."

Kurt stared at him in bewilderment.

"Wait…what?"

"Dad, please! Call mom!"

Baffled by Zack's sudden agitation, Kurt picked up his phone and dialed the number to his wife's cell phone.

Seconds later, father and son both discovered that Cody had been hit by a car. It took a month in the hospital, and further hours of rehabilitation to get Cody back on his feet again, but ultimately the boy recovered.

It was on that fateful day did the family discover a special gift that only existed between the two young brothers.

**End Flashback**

The feeling that Zack had experienced tonight was not unfamiliar. His sense of urgency increasing rapidly, he floored the accelerator, the already speeding Toyota blasting off into the night.

Gradually, the streets of Boston became more and more familiar. Zack vaguely remembered his bus rides back from middle school. Finally, he arrived on a street that he had not seen in a decade. On its corner stood a building, reminiscent of the past.

The Boston Tipton.

Trying to ignore the swelling buildup of emotion within him upon seeing his childhood home, Zack stopped the car on the side of the road and dashed towards the hotel's doors.

Startled, the entire population of the lobby looked up upon hearing the rapid opening of the hotel side door. In his haste, Zack had ignored the fact that someone was standing in front of the door and violently pushed it anyway, causing a familiar domino reaction of vexation on the guests' part as the man fell over, in turn pushing yet another guest, and then another.

Exasperated by the noise, Mr Moseby's head shot up from his computer and gasped in horror at the array of guests lying down in front of the hotel's revolving doors.

"What is going on?" shouted Mr Moseby in his familiar vocal moniker. Hurrying to the first guest he saw, he helped the angered lady to her feet.

"Oh, Mrs Bing, I am so, so terribly sorry! Here's a…free dessert." Reaching into his blazer pocket, he flashed a hospitable smile and withdrew a gift voucher that he kept handy for situations such as these, as any good hotel manager should. The affronted lady took the card from his hands and gave a huff, looked slightly less irked, and walked away.

Mr Moseby was just about to proceed to help up the next guest when he saw the cause of the disturbance standing still as a statue in front of the doors, staring straight at him with a blank face. He was just about to chide the doctor for being careless and reverting to his irritating adolescent days, when something made him stop.

Cody looked different, somewhat. Plus, one fact remained.

_Didn't he go up to his suite about an hour ago?_

Mr Moseby has clearly seen him go up the elevator.

The man spoke in a hesitant, yet awed voice.

"Mr Moseby?"

Mr Moseby's eyes grew wider at the sound of the voice. Analyzing the man standing in front of him, he could only come to one proper conclusion, as ridiculous and impossible as it seemed.

"Zack?"

Zack nodded fervently. The cranky manager still looked absolutely the same, perhaps with the exception of a few more wrinkles and a few grey hairs which miraculously didn't appear prematurely when the twins wreaked havoc in the hotel.

Forgetting about the guests strewn all over the floor, Mr Moseby took a step forward, arms stretched open.

"My God… Zack! You're back!"

At the sound of the familiar name, Irene the concierge turned around from her post, saw the grown-up teenage boy, and covered her mouth to stifle her gasp. Norman the doorman, who had just returned from the washroom, caught the last sentence of the conversation and stood aside, staring at Zack and wondering how much he had grown and change. Perhaps the most prominent reaction of all was from Arwin the hotel engineer, who saw Zack, dropped his hammer on the wooden floor (leaving behind a large dent) and ran away screaming about ghosts and hauntings.

The staff from a decade ago and Zack stood stiffly, as though they were playing a game of musical statues in the midst of the relatively crowded lobby.

Zack then remembered the reason for his return. Reminiscence could come later. Urgently, he turned once again to the manager.

"Mr Moseby, I really missed you. And everyone else too. And I would love to catch up with you guys after this, but there's something I really, really need to know right now."

Mr Moseby took a while to find his tongue.

"Of course, Zack. What do you need to know?"

"What's Cody's room number?"

Surprised, Mr Moseby's eyes widened even more, if it was possible.

"How did you know Cody is still staying at the hotel?"

"I ran into him yesterday. Mr Moseby, please! It's urgent!"

"Suite 2330."

Zack was taken aback. Ensuring he had not heard wrongly, he enquired yet again.

"I'm sorry?"

"Suite 2330."

_Just like a decade back_…

Mr Moseby looked at him with somewhat sad eyes.

"He never could let go."

Zack felt a sudden pang of guilt hit him. Mr Moseby must have noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"We can talk later. Go meet your brother."

Smiling gratefully at the man who had played a significant role in his adolescent past, Zack turned around and ran to the elevator, hitting the familiar 23rd floor button and waiting for the doors to shut. He prayed his fears would be disproved.

At the ground floor, Mr Moseby and the remaining staff members stared at each other with confused expressions, wondering if what had happened weren't their imaginations at work.

* * *

><p>"Cody!"<p>

Zack shouted his lungs out as he pounded on the locked door of Suite 2330. There was no response despite Zack's violent knocking.

A dilemma.

Cody hadn't left Zack with a cell phone number on the night they had met, which meant that he had absolutely no idea if Cody was even in the suite or not. Zack now had two choices to pick from. He could either ignore the fact that his telepathy had struck, forcing him to leave his restaurant and drive all the way to his childhood home, and just leave, or he could break down the door.

In sudden impulse and trepidation, Zack decided to settle for the latter.

It wasn't like he hadn't broken other things in the Tipton hotel anyway.

Taking a few steps back, Zack tried to ignore the fact that the constraints of the tiny corridor wouldn't provide him with much room and backed against the wall. Aiming his shoulder at the door, he ran forward as quickly as he could, letting out a primal war cry as he did.

There was a loud bang. A sharp jolt of pain erupted through his shoulder as it hit the wooden door, causing him to yelp and fall over.

The door stood as it had been before, still very much intact.

Grunting in frustration, Zack stood once again and tried to ignore the fact that he would have a huge bruise in a few hours. Blinking away the pain that had manifested in his watery eyes, he repeated his continuous mutilation of the door with more gusto than before.

A few slams later, there was a sickening creak as the hinges started to give way.

A few more slams later, the door handle decided to break away before the hinges did, its latch breaking through the wooden panel, causing the door to swing open violently and allowing Zack to tumble head first into the apartment.

Standing up and wincing uncontrollably at the pain he had just subjected himself to, Zack scanned round the living room.

It looked exactly the same as ten years before.

No sign of Cody.

Feeling a sense of dread rise through him, Zack directed his attention to the shut door.

He prayed he was wrong.

Taking slow steps to the room which he had shared with his brother for years, he rested his hand on the door knob. Hardening his resolve, he turned it.

What he saw caused his heart to fall and race at the same time.

* * *

><p>Cody writhed as a dagger-like pain stabbed him from within his stomach. Medical knowledge told him that his alimentary canal was trying to expel the poison that he had just swallowed. He tried his best to keep it down; knowing that expelling whatever he had swallowed would be contrary to his reason for doing it in the first place.<p>

Twenty tiny pills of unknown substance couldn't be healthy. It was just the way he had planned it.

He only wished that he had drank more of the powerful wine before he had swallowed the pills, such that he would be in a deeper state of drunkenness and wouldn't have to fight so hard to kill himself.

The intensity of the pain was increasing. Cody curled himself up into a ball on his bed and willed himself to succumb quickly, telling fate to stop being a bitch and at least grant him _this_.

All he wanted to do was escape.

As the door to his room suddenly opened, Cody looked at the lone figure standing in the light and realized that fate really was a little fucker.

* * *

><p>"Cody!"<p>

Zack shouted in terror as he saw his brother curled into the fetal position on the bed, in obvious pain. A sudden wave of nausea hit him as the migraine from earlier that night hit him, only this time it was more severe than before, with chills starting to develop from within Zack's body. It appeared as though their twin telepathy was working on overdrive now that they were in each other's direct presence.

Zack held the wall to prevent himself from toppling over.

"Get out, Zack!"

Zack shook his head to clear it, and glared at his brother.

"What the fuck are you saying? What's wrong with you?"

"Just get out! You're not supposed to be…" Cody winced, letting his voice trail off as his stomach was hit by another stab of pain. He gasped for air.

Zack's nausea quickly faded as he remembered the supposed severity of the situation of which he was still unclear of. He raced to the bed and crouched down beside his brother. Speaking softly, he ran his hand through his brother's hair in an attempt to calm him.

"Cody… what's wrong?"

Cody couldn't respond, having been racked by yet another relentless wave of pain. Zack then saw an empty, transparent medicinal bottle sitting on the bedside table, next to an empty bottle of wine.

He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but his gut feeling told him that he was, unfortunately, right.

"What the fuck, man!"

Any further attempts to scold his brother were marred by Cody's suddenly turning over to his other side, letting out a scream that told of pure anguish. A strange, bubbling sensation made its way up his throat rapidly. The gag reflex was starting to take hold, as Cody accidentally allowed some of the poison escape from his mouth.

Zack had expected vomit, but not the kind that he was seeing. Cody was now frothing at the mouth, strange orange bubbles rapidly forming from between his lips and bursting rapidly. In a most inappropriately timed and placed observation ever, Cody then realized that the bubbles actually had a _taste, _and they tasted strangely familiar.

"Cody, what kind of pills did you eat?"

Zack was hysterical now. He had never seen anything like this. Finding his feet again, he prepared to dash out of the room.

"I'm calling an ambulance now!"

Cody gripped onto his brother's jacket and held him back, trying to speak beneath all the frothing.

"Zack, wait!"

The taste hit him yet again, a tinge of familiar sour underneath the bitterness of the stomach acid.

Then, he recognized it.

He slapped himself so hard internally that it actually physically hurt somewhat.

He was the worst suicide victim ever.

Realising that he probably wasn't going to die today anyway, Cody rushed out of the room before his brother and dashed into the bathroom, his brother following closely behind, feeling incredibly afraid. Lifting the toilet seat, Cody hurled out the contents of his stomach violently into the toilet water. The poison stared back at him from within.

"Dude, I'm calling the ambulance whether you like it or not!"

"Zack, forget it! I'm… fine." Replied Cody, somewhat disappointedly.

"What the hell do you mean you're fine? You just barfed up tons of orange…"

Cody cut him off, sitting with his back against the bathtub, sighing exhaustedly.

"Effervescent orange vitamin C tablets."

He looked up at his brother, whose anxious expression now looked merely questioning.

"I really suck at this."

* * *

><p>Thankful to realize that the suite's refrigerator was stocked with a respectable amount of ingredients to work with, Zack began work. The recipe he would be attempting today, however, was not created entirely by himself, being part of a remedy to cure hangovers. Having tried it in the past, Zack knew that it would work on even the most inexorable alcoholic.<p>

A cup of the strongest tea he could find in the suite, with the addition of warmed milk, roasted saffron, cardamom seeds, ground almonds and pistachios, created a drink that was both sweet and sufficiently tangy to energize one from a deep sleep or the most obstinate hangover.

Topping the drink off with a few squirts of lemon juice, Zack picked up the cup from the kitchen counter and walked to the pull-out couch in the living room, where his brother was resting. He was lying on his front, with his head stuffed into the front of the pillow. Zack couldn't tell if he was awake.

He still couldn't believe what Cody had tried to do.

Sitting on the side of the bed, he felt his brother stir beneath the sheets. He gently prodded Cody awake.

"Codes… wake up for a second."

Cody turned his head to face Zack. He had obviously been crying into the pillow.

Zack used his hand to help him sit up, wrapping the blankets on the couch around him for warmth. Wordlessly, he handed Cody the cup of freshly made milk-tea concoction. Cody accepted it gratefully and sipped it.

"It's good. Milk, tea, lemon, saffron, almonds and pistachios?"

Zack could tell that his brother was trying to keep the conversation trivial. He struggled to do the same.

"Yep. And there's something else you missed out."

Cody sipped the drink again.

"Oh… cardamom seeds."

Zack nodded. Even in this critical juncture where he was questioning his brother's mental health, he couldn't help but be impressed by his brother impeccable palate. Even three years in culinary school hasn't done much to improve his own skill in regards to this aspect of cooking.

There was an awkward silence as the two brothers sat in the dark, Cody continuously sipping from the cup. Finally, Zack could bear it no longer. He reached out his hand and curled his fingers around the cup, causing Cody to look up in surprise. Zack took the cup from him and sat it down onto the table. Climbing back onto the couch bed, he crossed his legs and faced Cody.

"Codes… what were you thinking?"

Cody scrunched up his eyes in frustration.

"I'm not completely sober yet, ask later."

"The more un-sober you are, Cody, the easier this will go."

Cody glared at his brother, who stared back him with concerned eyes. Even in the dark, Cody could tell that Zack was genuinely worried. Perhaps his fear regarding that one piece of nonsense uttered by the demons in his head was untrue after all.

Scrunching up his courage from within himself, he began to speak to someone regarding the problems he has been facing for the first time in his life. Zack was a perfect listener, keeping quiet when sensing his brother talking through an emotional issue (which made up most of his monologue) and expressing shock at other appropriate parts of the story. The greatest gasp was heard when Cody mentioned how he was afraid that Zack was ashamed to have him as a brother.

After listening, Zack realized to his astonishment exactly how damaged his brother was. He felt even more guilty than before for being absent over the past few years. Perhaps Cody wouldn't have suffered so much if he were able to find a decent outlet for his grief.

_I'm supposed to be the protective one…_

Zack growled to himself in anger.

Cody was beginning the drift off to sleep, the events of the evening having racked his body with exhaustion. As Zack stared at his brother's eyelids slowly shutting, he realized that he had to somehow make up for the brotherly time lost between them. It was the only way Cody could begin to recover.

He then had a quick brainwave. Perhaps it was time to interfere and take some matters into his own hands.

He laid Cody down on the bed and placed the cup of unfinished drink in his hand.

"Codes… go to sleep after you've finished the drink, okay? I need to… go off and do something."

Cody's eyes widened in fear. _Was Zack bored by my ranting? Is he leaving?_

"Zack…"

Zack seemed to sense Cody's apprehension.

"Relax, dude. I'll be back in the morning. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid, okay?"

Cody decided to let the unsettling feeling slide, and nodded his head for assurance.

"Good. See you later, dude."

Cody had already finished the drink, and was rapidly surrendering to the sandman. Taking the cup from his limp hand, Zack placed it back on the table and realized at his brother was already asleep. Covering him up protectively with the blanket, Zack bent over and kissed Cody on the forehead.

It was as though they were children all over again.

Zack stood and walked to the kitchen counter, where Cody had left his mobile phone. Snatching it up, he crouched down behind the counter to ensure the light from the display wouldn't wake his brother, and did a quick search through his contacts.

He then found the name he was searching for. The mobile profile was complete, with a picture and address attached. He memorized the portrait photo and sent the necessary data to his own phone. Once he had obtained what was necessary, he shut off the phone's display and placed it back onto the kitchen counter, as though it had been untouched.

One resolution clear in his mind, he walked to the broken door (praying no one would break in overnight) and slipped out of the suite into the corridor.

It was time for the protector to finish his overdue homework.

* * *

><p>Bailey sat on the living room couch, ashamed at what she had done. Finally, she had triumphed over her carnal urges and chased Moose out of her apartment, just before they were about to begin another round of filthy sexual carnage. It was upon chasing him out did she discover something lying on the ground outside her house, with the front door ajar.<p>

The object now sat on her lap. A bouquet of fresh white lilies.

_Cody was here_. Bailey was feeling incredibly anxious. _Did he see anything?_

She prayed not.

Unsure of what to do at this point, she could only sit and pretend what Moose and herself had done did not happen.

_I'm so going to hell for this._

She twisted her head around to the door as the sound of a loud pounding came from outside the apartment. Nervously, she walked up to the door and looked through the peephole.

It was him.

Her heart pounding loudly in his chest, she decided to do an impromptu show of affection, hoping it would throw him off his game. She opened the door.

"Cody!"

She opened her arms wide and threw herself at the man standing at the door, and was pushed back by his strong right arm.

Nearly losing her balance, she tried her best to look hurt at his iciness, till she saw the look on his face and shrank inwardly. She managed to stutter out his name again.

"Cody…"

The man stared back at her with fiery eyes.

"I'm afraid not."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note <strong>– Bailey's going to hell for this ahahahaha. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. I realized I'm much better at writing descriptions, so unfortunately these few chapters aren't too fun for me to write (cause there's so little cooking to describe). I couldn't resist but describe the tea.

Reviews appreciated

~SUITELIFEFAN


	14. Chapter 13

**Food Therapy – Chapter 13**

Cody woke up to the aromatic scent of bacon and butter filling his nostrils and the gentle sizzle of oil heating in a frying pan. Tugging the sheets off him, he sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily, trying to recall the events of the previous night. For some reason all seemed a blur.

Suddenly a pain between his ears hit him, and as the realization of the remnants of a hangover dawned onto him, he recalled in an instant.

Groaning, he rubbed his temples with his fingers, the sensual pleasure derived from the auditory sizzle and the olfactory aroma overwhelming his hyper-sensualized body. Everything pleasurable seemed nasty in the midst of a hangover.

"Hey, you're up."

Cody's eyes darted to the kitchen upon hearing the familiar voice, and was greeted by the sight of his older brother, back facing him, focused on the stove. Cody then remembered what Zack had done for him the night before, and felt instantly relieved.

_Imagine if he had not come…_Cody shivered. _I would have tried again even if I had failed._

He had never felt more thankful to have a brother, regardless of the past. He sat in silence, legs crossed on the pull-out couch bed, watching his twin cook.

Zack was working on a piece of work that he had not done since culinary school, due to the fact that Martini never had a breakfast service. He had originally considered going for a simple, traditional American breakfast, perhaps with eggs sunny-side up, pancakes, or whatever constituted such a breakfast. His inner chef, however, didn't let him completely remove the sophistication from his work.

He then made his decision. _Eggs Benedict. Can be made in a short time, fancy to a certain extent, and delicious._

He also knew that his brother, with sophisticated tastes even in adolescence, would appreciate the sentiment.

The Hollandaise sauce, a crucial component in the deceptively simple dish, was the most challenging portion to complete, the eggs used in the creamy mixture threatening to scramble or harden should any mistake be made in the whisking. Zack, however, was trained in preparing this essential sauce found often in French cuisine, and therefore prepared the eggs perfectly. After the addition of lemon juice, white pepper and Worcestershire sauce, the sauce was left on the stove to be continuously warmed.

The rest of the dish was simple. The poaching of the centerpiece eggs, the toasting of the English muffins (which Zack had miraculously obtained from one of the kitchen cabinets) and the gentle browning of the bacon with butter over the medium-high heat of the stove was done in a flash, with Zack's typical industrial kitchen line efficiency. It had been the preparation of the latter part of the dish that had woken Zack's sleeping brother.

The dish was now near completion, with all individual portions prepared to come together to make a masterpiece. Spreading the English muffins with softened butter, Zack placed the cooked bacon on the two halves and carefully placed one poached egg, the yolk already wrapped in a translucent white film, on each of the muffins. With the picking up of a spoon, the Hollandaise sauce in all its golden glory was spread over the eggs, flowing down slowly the mounts as its thick, creamy consistency adhered to the other ingredients.

Egg's Benedict.

Breakfast was served.

Zack then realized that Cody was standing directly in front of the kitchen counter, watching him pour the sauce over the dish. He had been so absorbed in its preparation that he had not noticed his brother stand up and walk towards him.

"Good Morning, my sleepy, nerdy little brother."

Cody couldn't help but grin a little at his brother's childish, playful quip. Still drained out by the hangover, he couldn't express himself very well.

"Morning."

Zack placed one of the muffins with its respective constituents on a plate and set it in front of his brother. Both brothers looked up at the sound of a loud hissing noise. Turning, Zack saw the kettle he had set on the stove beside the Hollandaise wailing, hot steam erupting from its sprout.

"Opps…almost forgot the tea."

Carefully, he picked the kettle off the stove and poured the hot water into two ready cups, tea leaves already waiting within them. The scent of the hot tea was alluring. He placed one cup in front of himself, and the other in front of his brother.

"Drink up…it'll help."

"Thanks." Cody mumbled.

Placing the rim of the cup to his lips, Cody gave a gentle sip. The irresistible aroma of the tea washed over his senses, drowning him momentarily in clarity. As the fog from the steam cleared over his vision, Cody then realized that he was already feeling much better than before.

Zack just sat on the opposite side of the counter, waiting for his brother to taste his breakfast, and eager for a review.

As though sensing his brother's jumpiness with regards to the food he had just prepared, Cody picked up a knife and fork and stared at his plate. Like a true connoisseur of the art of breakfast, Cody held the knife above the poached egg with surgical precision and proceeded to slide the blade across the film of egg white, tearing a slit through to the yolk. The sun-yellow york poured out of the egg and mixed with the Hollandaise sauce, spreading rapidly over the bacon and muffin waiting to be washed in a shower of eggy majesty.

Just as Zack had planned.

Cody sliced off a piece of bacon and muffin, and spread it generously with the sauce. Closing his eyes, he placed the fork into his mouth, and was instantly overwhelmed by a heavenly and piquant taste.

"Zack…this is absolutely fantastic! You nailed the Hollandaise!"

Zack smirked. _Another satisfied customer_. Sure that his brother was satisfied, he picked up his own fork and knife and tucked in, relishing in the tastefulness that was Benedict.

The two ate in silence, the only sound the sound of their utensils hitting the plates.

"Zack…thanks."

Zack looked up to see his brother looking right at him. He looked much better than last night, albeit with faint dark rings around his eyes. He smiled warmly.

"No problem, little bro. Just glad I could help."

They smiled at each other before re-concentrating on the plates in front of them.

Zack then suddenly decided to speak.

"Cody…about the Bailey thing…"

The Hollandaise in Cody's mouth seemed to sour somewhat upon hearing the name.

"…you don't have to worry about it."

Cody looked up questioningly and somewhat sadly.

"How do you know that?"

"Just…a gut feeling. Things will definitely work out, man."

Cody smiled. Zack was trying to make him feel better, and to discredit that would be rude on his part, regardless of how he felt much he leaned towards the contrary.

"Thanks, Zack."

His previous fear about Zack feeling he was a burden was all but lost to the wind. He now knew for sure that he was loved.

Grinning widely, he placed another forkful of the delicious breakfast into his mouth, losing himself in sweet and tangy nirvana.

* * *

><p>The hospital staff administrator picked up the envelope that was just placed on his office table. Lifting the unglued flap, he removed the piece of paper and began to read its contents. A minute later, he looked up at the doctor standing with his arms crossed in front of him.<p>

"Dr Martin…are you sure about this?"

Cody nodded his head. Regarding this matter, he would not be swayed.

"Yes, sir."

"And you're positive about your decision?"

"I'm positive, sir."

"I see." The administrator adjusted his spectacles on the bridge of his nose. "I need to say…this will be quite a blow to the trauma department. Your superiors have constantly labeled you as an exceptional doctor."

Cody only smiled politely. Though it was rare that a senior staff member praise a junior doctor, Cody, though Zack's encouragement was adamant about his decision. There was no questioning it. He had to find a way to break free from the seemingly endless mess that his hormones and sensitive character have gotten himself in.

"I understand that sir, and I appreciate your praise. However, I do have reasons as to why I've made this decision. I also understand that I'm still affiliated to Yale Medical School, which placed me in this hospital a little over two years ago, therefore I will also need your help in faxing them a copy of my letter of transfer."

The administrator sighed.

"You seem very eager to leave, Dr Martin."

Cody said nothing.

"Very well, I'll send Yale a copy of your letter. As per ordinary transfers, you will be informed of your new hospital-of-residence within the next week or so. Once all of your documentation has been sent to the hospital, it'll take about another week for you to start work. The hospital will likely be one relatively close to the area, in order to facilitate your transport needs."

Cody nodded.

"Thank you, sir. In regards to the two additional weeks, I would also like to inquire if it would be acceptable for me to take non-medical leave for them."

The administrator raised his eyebrow.

"Reason?"

"Family, sir." _It's not like I'm lying._

The administrator pulled out a file from the cabinet behind him and browsed through it. Cody's attendance records in the hospital were impeccable.

"Considering the fact that for the past two years you have been assigned to our hospital, you have never been absent for a single day, perhaps with exception to one day last week, I can't exactly say no, can I?"

Cody gave the administrator a small smile.

"Actually sir, you can."

The administrator returned the smile.

"I'm not that cruel. Have your two weeks of time with family."

"Thank you, sir. If there's nothing else, I'll return to my duties for the day."

"There's nothing else. I thank you for the time and effort you have put into working with us and the patients here for the past 2 years, Dr Martin."

The administrator stood and gripped Cody's hand, shaking it firmly.

"Thank you, sir. It has been a pleasure working here."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Cody turned on his heel and walked towards the door of the administrator's office. Just as he opened the door, the administrator's voice rang clearly from behind him.

"One last question, Dr Martin…"

Cody turned around to face the man.

"What is your reason for wanting the transfer?"

Cody could only think of one way to answer the question without revealing too much of the details of which he did not have intention of revisiting with anyone, especially a superior of his. Smiling sadly, he spoke.

"Matters of the heart, sir."

"I see. Understood."

Cody stepped out of the office and shut the door carefully behind him. Putting on the white doctor's coat which he had left hanging on the hook outside the office, he buttoned it up firmly and prepared to continue one of his last days of duty at the Boston Medical Center.

* * *

><p>Esteban couldn't believe his ears as Zack told him the story of his past. It was 9am in the morning. Most of the kitchen staff had not yet reported for work, and none of the waiting staff were present. It was a perfect time for a little chat with the executive chef, the first chance he had gotten since he saw the chef and the late night visitor talking as though they were brothers.<p>

Zack, having gotten somewhat attached to this hardworking member of his staff, was willing to share. He was tired, due to his running around and lack of sleep from the previous night.

The manager was sitting on one of the dining room tables, with the executive chef sitting in the adjacent seat, drinking a soup that he had just prepared to energize himself for the day. The soup, Acquacotta di Verdure (Cooked water with greens) is regarded as a peasant soup in Italy, but it was more than sufficient for the tired and self-sufficient chef, who was willing to eat even the simplest foods unlike his paying customers.

The chef had kindly offered the manager a bowl, of which the latter had gratefully accepted.

"Chef…so sir Cody is in fact your brother?"

"Yes." Zack frowned. "Come to think of it, didn't you realize that something was up? You were the only person who saw both of us on a daily, and for him weekly basis."

"Indeed, Chef. I did notice a striking resemblance between the both of you when he first visited the restaurant, but I chalked that up to coincidence, and after a few weeks I eventually forgot about the resemblance."

"How about our names, then? Didn't you realize that we both had the same first name?"

"He told me during our chat the first time he was here to call him Cody, and I've never probed deeper into that, Chef."

"Ah…I see."

There was a clanking of spoons against bowls.

"Chef…sir Cody, is he good at cooking as well? I knew he probably did have quite a bit of experience with food, judging by how he tasted the dishes that I served him every week."

Zack smiled.

"Esteban…when Cody and I were much younger, he was much better than me at cooking."

Esteban's eyes grew wider.

"But Chef, you already are so good at cooking!"

"When I was younger, I was never really interested in cooking. Cody was always the genius cook. He gained some experience through working with the head chef at the hotel which we stayed at."

Esteban vaguely remembered the first conversation that had taken place between him and Cody.

"He really was a fantastic cook. I remember once when we were twelve, the hotel manager tasted his chocolate chip cookies and was so impressed that he ordered entire batches to be served at some ball that the hotel was having at that time."

"That's very impressive, considering he was only twelve."

"It didn't turn out very well, though. Being the mischievous little imps that we were, we somehow got into a food fight that involved a lot of lemon cream pie and the entire attendance of the ball. Needless to say the manager wasn't too happy with us."

The two laughed jubilantly. Zack was having a good time relishing in both the soup and fond childhood memories.

"I always knew Cody was destined for great things, though. He was incredibly hardworking at school, while I was somewhat a slacker. It was not easy to try and measure up to him. And his hard work paid off, I suppose. I just found out from him that he graduated from Yale Medical School a few years ago."

Suddenly, a thought came to Esteban's head.

"Chef, may I ask…"

Zack looked at Esteban questioningly.

"…has sir Cody ever wanted to open a restaurant?"

Zack contemplated the question, having never thought about it before. In the past, the idea of Cody opening his own restaurant would not have been entirely ridiculous. However, the circumstances have changed, and it was unlikely that Cody would even consider giving up an incredibly stable, high-paying job in the medical field to work in the food and hospitality industry.

"In the past, maybe. But right now, I'd doubt it."

Esteban raised a finger to his chin thoughtfully.

"I was just thinking, chef. Since the restaurant has been doing so well, have you considered expanding the business?"

The thought had once crossed Zack's mind, but when it did, it had immediately been pushed to the back of his head. It was unlikely that Zack would ever be able to feel safe being away from the management of one of his restaurants. If he had been so adamant about not adding a few extra tables to Martini, what are the odds that he would be able to open up a second restaurant and feel safe about his decision?

"I don't think that will happen any time in the near future, Esteban."

"Perhaps you could consider asking sir Cody to lend you a hand, chef. I think he would be a more than exceptional executive chef for any other restaurant you might consider opening."

"Cody?" Zack chuckled a little. "He's doing great as a doctor, and earning a huge amount of money, perhaps even more than we are now."

He scooped more soup onto his spoon.

"Why would he even consider dropping out of a field that he had worked so hard for and earning so much in to become a _chef_?"

* * *

><p>It was the start of Cody's two week long break, and the end of his last day of work at the Boston Medical Center. Breathing a sigh of relief, Cody walked through the revolving doors of the Tipton hotel, glad of the terror which he had just separated himself from.<p>

It had been 3 days since his near-death suicidal incident, and he still hasn't called Bailey.

Not that he really cared much, anymore. It was times like these that utilization of the emotional shields that he had constructed as a doctor came in handy if they were manipulated properly.

"Cody! You've got mail!"

Mr Moseby had seen him entering the hotel and was waving him over. Smiling as he realized that he had two weeks to himself, Cody strode up to the front desk merrily.

"Good afternoon, Mr Moseby."

"Good afternoon to you, Cody! It's surprising to see you back so early. Don't you have work?"

Cody grinned.

"I took a few days off. Just a little break."

"Ah, that's good. You work so hard at the hospital anyway."

"You work pretty hard at the hotel yourself, Mr Moseby, yet you've never taken a proper day off."

"What can I say, Cody…I love this hotel! The Tipton is my home…"

Cody shook his head and chuckled as Mr Moseby once again proclaimed his love for the twin's childhood home. Remembering why he had called Cody to the front desk, Mr Moseby reached behind him and pulled out a few envelopes, passing them to Cody.

"Oh yes," Mr Moseby tried to keep the tone trivial. "With regards to Zack…"

"Oh, you saw him?" Cody then realized that since Mr Moseby constantly kept a watch on the front doors of the hotel, it was inevitable that Zack would have been spotted if he had taken a step into the hotel.

"Yes, and the staff wants to know what exactly has happened to him over the past decade. Is he still upset with regards to the…incident?"

It was still a sensitive topic within the hotel staff to talk about the Tipton headliner's fatal accident and the circumstances that had caused it. Cody could see that Mr Moseby was dying to obtain more information with regards to how his twin had been doing.

"I think it would be better if we explained it to you together, Mr Moseby. We've reconciled, and he's actually doing pretty well on his own right now. Once both of us are available, why don't the three of us meet up for dinner and catch up?"

Mr Moseby beamed enthusiastically.

"That's a wonderful idea, Cody! I look forward to talking to you two hooligans as a pair again."

Cody laughed.

"Thanks for the mail, Mr Moseby. Have a good day"

"Have a good day, Cody."

Waving, Cody strode towards the hotel elevator and waited as its doors closed and the shaft rose towards the 23rd floor. He flipped through the stack of envelopes, and nearly dropped everything he was holding when he reached the letter at the bottom of the pile.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong> – How's my little description of the Egg's Benedict? Some of you reviewers have commented on missing my food descriptions, so I took the liberty of planting one in this chapter. For those of you who have no idea what it is, wikipedia it and check its picture. *drool*

Reviews appreciated, and would greatly help the production of the next chapter.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	15. Chapter 14

**Food Therapy – Chapter 14**

_Dear Cody:_

_I understand if you never want to talk to me or see me again, however I realize that I had to communicate with you in some way to settle things between us. Firstly, I got the lilies. Although I had received them in a way that I had not expected, I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. _

_Secondly, I'm sorry. You must have seen what had happened that night, and I just want to say that I had no expected it happening as well. Moose caught me by surprise and I gave in to him against my wisdom, and for that I am sorry. If I were speaking this to you face to face I would be on my knees now, begging you for forgiveness. _

_But after some thought, I realize that it would be unfair to pin all of the blame on me. Perhaps my actions can be somewhat attributed to the fact that I was going through an emotional time, with my breakup with Moose, and I just couldn't help but succumb to carnal pleasures in the heat of the moment with him. I'm sure that as a learned person, you would understand. These situations happen often in relationships anyway._

_When I saw the lilies lying on the ground, I had chased Moose out of my apartment and thought to myself for a long time, wondering what kind of relationship I actually wanted. After much thought I realized that deep inside, my heart was calling out for true love. I wanted to be in a relationship where there was commitment, and a relationship with Moose would almost definitely be a dead-end. All he ever wants is sex, and although I succumb to it once in a while, I still want to be truly loved._

_That's why, Cody, regardless of what happens after you read this letter, I would like to say that I pick you._

_Please give me a chance._

_I would also like to mention that your brother, Zack, came over to my home that day. I'm not sure as to how he got my address or even knew who I am, but he wasn't exactly very friendly. When he arrived he started ranting endlessly about how I broke your heart and how I should never see you again, but I've already decided that I want to get back with you, regardless of whether we get his blessing or not. I'm sure that true love will triumph._

_And besides, Cody, I'm the best thing you'll probably ever have._

_If you're willing to work out this relationship with me, meet me at the coffee place near the hospital on Tuesday during lunch. If you do not wish to continue this relationship, send me back the letter, so that I will understand and we can both get some closure._

_I hope you will make the right decision._

_Love,_

_Bailey_

Cody couldn't help but chortle at the sheer arrogance of the letter. Instead of being sincere enough to at least call him or meet him to apologize for her misdeeds, Bailey had decided to instead write a letter, and within it contained ignorant, laughable snippets of ridiculousness that allowed her haughtiness and self-absorbance to shine through. He had no intention to get back into a relationship with someone like that.

Never again.

It was time to finally end this disaster.

Feeling less affected by the letter than he would have expected, Cody shut the door to the suite behind him and walked towards his bedroom with every intention to find an envelope, stick the god-damned piece of paper into it, mail it to its return address and be done with the whole Bailey fiasco.

A thought then came to his mind.

Why did he need to give the woman who had betrayed him _twice_ any closure, or respect at all?

His leaving the hospital was a way for him to completely detach himself from the Bailey, removing any possible chance of love-like feelings recurring between the two. It was Zack's idea, and admittedly it made perfect sense. You can't get rid of the cancer unless you completely remove the diseased cells. As far as Cody was concerned, Boston Medical Center was such a cell.

As Zack came to mind, Cody then realized where Zack had probably gone the night where he had tried offing himself. Apparently Zack's treatment of his ex-fiancee had not been sufficient to soften her hardened ego, but Cody resolved to thank his brother when he next saw him anyway. The thought of Zack being concerned enough to try to fix the situation by himself was heartwarming.

Cody also realized that Zack's reappearance, and of course their reignited brotherly love, was probably a reason behind why it was now easier to let go of this past love.

_Click._ An idea.

Feeling his inner pyromaniac take hold, Cody changed his course to the kitchen. Temporarily flicking off the smoke detector, he ignited the electric gas stove and watched as tiny flames erupted from its core.

The edge of the letter touched a flame, and was immediately set alight.

Cody watched as the flame slowly spread, getting larger as it continued to feed off oxygen in the air and the starchy white material. The paper was slowly getting charred, brown patches turning to black as the fibers were converted through oxidation to carbon.

The destruction of the paper seemed somewhat symbolic of the official end of the relationship.

As Cody continued watching the burning paper, he released that this, probably, was closure enough.

_Bye bye Bailey._

* * *

><p>Ristorante Martini was in the middle of its lunch service, and with a dining room chock full of guests and a chain of mistakes occurring in the kitchen, Zack was not happy. As the waiter entered the kitchen to pick up a dish and saw the vein in Zack's forehead taking on its own personality and throbbing violently, he was quick to pick up the dish and dash as quickly as he could out of the kitchen.<p>

Mount Zack was about to erupt, and he had no wish to be in the splash-zone.

Today, it had begun with a single mistake on the part of one unfortunate line cook who had over-reduced the red wine sauce for the Veal Saltimbocca. The kitchen industrial line, all geared up and ready to go, was driven to a grinding halt as Zack tasted the sauce, spit it out vehemently and shouted for the entire batch to be remade. With a small mistake came un-phantomable inefficiency, some of the line cooks left stalled at their stations with the completed separate portions of the dish, unable to perform their next task till the shamed line cook redid the sauce.

At the initial starting up of Martini, these occurrences, along with Zack's periods of feared rage, occurred on a daily basis. Thankfully, as the cooks got used to their kitchen surroundings, usually working in sync with one another's paces. However, even cooks were merely human, and mistakes do happen.

Today was just one of _those_ days.

Zack dipped a spoon into a completed bowl of soup and, with utmost ferocity, spit the offending concoction into the sink and threw the spoon violently onto the workbench, the utensil causing a loud reverberation as it hit the stainless steel working area.

"Disgusting…" Zack growled under his breath. The active volcano was close to eruption. "Absolutely DISGUSTING!"

Zack slapped his hand onto the workbench, hard. Dramatically, a set of utensils left innocently on the end of the table were struck through the bench's vibration and fell to the floor, clattering loudly on the kitchen floor. Immediately, the entire kitchen perked up to Zack's shout and came to a complete standstill, as though frozen.

The molten rock flowed from the mountain's core.

Seething, Zack turned around to face the entire kitchen staff, who were now looking at him with apprehensive and fearful eyes.

"What the FUCK do you think you're all doing?"

Complete silence. If a lone pea had fallen to the ground, the sound it made would have been deafening.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this restaurant has been open for ONE FUCKING YEAR. I believe the time for getting used to the pace of things has long PASSED. That also means that if a customer wants his FUCKING VEAL SALTIMBOCCA, he'll get his FUCKING VEAL SALTIMBOCCA, and it will be completed QUICKLY and PERFECT. Is that really TOO MUCH TO ASK?"

The staff understood that these eruptions were laced with genuine concern with regards to efficiency and quality, due to the executive chef's perfectionist (and rightfully so) nature. These were the only things that had sustained Martini's reputation. However, they were never nice to hear.

Zack picked up the offending bowl of soup, his hands trembling due to rage.

"The whole lot of you, pick up a damn spoon, and COME HERE!"

Without argument, the entire industrial line of cooks picked up a utensil and walked quickly to the front of the kitchen, where the angry executive chef was standing. The sous-chef stood at the corner of the kitchen, arms folded, glaring at everyone else like he usually did in situations such as these. The kitchen door opened momentarily and quickly closed again as a waiter scurried away.

"Taste it, taste the damn thing!"

A multitude of spoons penetrated the surface of the liquid and were placed into the mouths of the line cooks. A few of them grimaced upon tasting the soup, now fully aware of what Zack was talking about. Zack then pointed to the line cook closest to him.

"You! What did that taste like?"

The line cook was blatant and honest.

"Like crap, chef."

"Thank you!" He pointed to another cook. "And you?"

"It's disgusting, chef."

"Exactly, and that's why I'm so fucking PISSED!"

The cooks crowded around the executive chef took an involuntarily step back as they nearly braced themselves for blows.

"It tastes bad because somebody forgot to add in the stupid CHICKEN STOCK. Does anyone not care about the damn CUSTOMERS waiting out there for their food anymore? What happened to all the crap I told you about cooking with LOVE and CARE, you idiots? I don't know what's wrong with all of you today, but it's like you're not even TRYING!"

The bowl was sent flying towards a nearby workbench, shattering due to the sheer force, the soup splashing into the sink, its ingredients sprawled with finality.

"Get back to your workbenches and COOK PROPERLY, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

"Yes, chef!"

The line cooks scurried back to their benches and proceeded with their work. Instead of being embarrassed and reduced by Zack's outpouring of anger, they were now instead geared up to work even harder.

This was how the restaurant industry worked, and everyone in the kitchen of Martini knew it perfectly well. If an outsider to the food industry had looked in, they would have been horrified with the treatment of the cooks. The occasional mind-numbing display of ferocity shown by the executive chef, however, was sometimes crucial to the function of the entire kitchen.

The line cooks always came back stronger from moments such as these.

Immediately, as though inspired by angry swear words, the kitchen got past the momentary interruption and started to churn out food that was now acceptable to Zack's standards. The customers in the dining room were now finally getting their orders.

The kitchen continued working on clockwork and without error for the next hour. Then, the phone rang.

_Who the hell is calling at THIS hour?_

Asking the sous-chef to look after the kitchen, Zack strode heavily to the phone at the side of the kitchen wall and picked it up, slamming the receiver to his ear and mouth.

"Hello?" He barked.

A sickly polished voice came resonating through the receiver.

"Good afternoon, sir. I understand that this is the number for Ristorante Martini? I'm calling from Corporate Beef Pte. Ltd, and I would like to enquire about your beef needs. Our company provides high quality beef, portions of all kinds, freshly shipped daily from-"

_God, not one of these idiots again! _It was not the first time Zack had had to deal with advertisements such as these. The earlier fire starting to brew again, he interrupted the salesman's monologue, struggling to keep a friendly tone.

"Excuse me, you're from a company that sells food, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you're also aware of how a restaurant works?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you aware of a typical restaurant's opening hours?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great, then clue me this…" Zack tightened his grip on the receiver. "Why the FUCK are you calling me in the middle of our goddamned LUNCH SERVICE?"

Without waiting for a reply, he threw the receiver back on its hook and strode back to his workbench purposefully, testing the newly seared salmon before he sent it for plating.

This was the restaurant industry.

Zackary Martin was a nice guy in real life. In the kitchen however, he was a tyrant. A goddamned efficient tyrant.

And no one would have him any other way.

* * *

><p>The lunch service had finally finished, leaving the kitchen staff with a few hours to rest. Preparations for the dinner service had mostly been completed the night before, leaving the exhausted cooks with time to slow down their fatigued minds and bodies. Working in a professional kitchen was no mean feat.<p>

As the kitchen cook population slowly diminished, and the smoking population of the alleyway behind the restaurant increased, Zack took a deep breath as he tried to recover from the fury he had unleashed an hour ago. In days where he was as riled up as before, there was always a slight feeling of burn-out at the end of the service as the adrenaline faded away.

Zack wondered to himself how long he would be able to survive in the industry without prematurely aging. Deep inside he knew it was already happening.

_By the time Cody turns 40, I'll look 80, _he scoffed.

All was quiet in the kitchen as the lone individual sat on the counter, thinking to himself.

The phone rang, breaking the silence.

Wondering if the bastard who had interrupted service earlier was calling back, Zack felt himself boiling slightly inside, ready to completely blast the sticky, inconsiderate corporate slave.

He threw up the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

Then, he paused a little, unprepared for the introduction he had just heard. The voice sounded somewhat familiar.

"I'm…sorry. Is this…"

The other person on the line, as though knowing what Zack was thinking, confirmed the affirmative.

"Yes, this is Zack. It's been a while, chef. How are you doing?"

Zack wondered why, of all people, this man was calling him. Then, he heard a surprising piece of news.

"Oh…I didn't expect that. Why the sudden decision?"

He frowned.

"I see. That's a pity."

More words were exchanged as a proposition was brought forward, causing Zack's eyes to widen just a tad.

"Well, it is a great honor that a chef as great as you would approach me, chef, but I actually haven't given the idea much thought."

An appeal for deeper consideration.

"I will think about it though. Thank you for calling, chef."

Zack put down the phone and gave a low whistle.

_Well I'll be damned_.

He had _not_ expected that.

Had the prospects that the person on the phone suggested ever properly came to his mind before? Zack vaguely remembered something a certain Peruvian manager had said a few days ago. Was he ready to take on such a business venture?

Deep inside, Zack knew that despite all his success, he wasn't ready. There was definite appeal to the idea, though.

He resolved to give it further thought later on.

The phone rang again, inciting Zack's glare. _What is up with that thing today?_ Picking up the receiver for the third time that day, he decided against barking angrily, lest another call like the previous one was incoming.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Zacko." Zack grinned as the familiar voice rang clearly through the receiver. "What are you up to now?"

"Now? Err…nothing much. We just finished lunch service over here at the restaurant, so I'm just chilling out."

"Cool. Hey, want to catch some lunch?"

"Sure, but…" Zack looked at his wristwatch questioningly. "Aren't you busy over at the hospital right now? I would have thought lunch break for you medical guys ended earlier."

"Well…I'm not exactly at work right now."

_Not at work? Really? _Zack couldn't help but chortle at how unimaginable the thought was.

"Anyway, since you already said 'sure', I'm coming over to the restaurant now. See you in a moment."

"What? Wait! Couldn't we eat somewhere else? We just finished lunch service, there's no food ready for serving!"

"Don't worry, Chef…"

The sound of the kitchen door opening filled Zack's free ear. He turned around and saw the person he was just talking to, a cell phone pressed to his ear and a basket tucked under his arm. He was grinning wildly. Even from a distance away, Zack could already smell freshly baked bread. As his mouth filled up with saliva, he then realized how hungry he was.

"Already got that covered."

* * *

><p>The two brothers sat facing each other on one of the tables of Ristorante Martini. After shooing Esteban away (politely), Cody removed the cover of the basket and exposed loafs of freshly toasted bread, their aroma lurking out of the basket and diffusing into the air around the table. Beside the bread were a couple of pastries, and various condiments, such as jam, peanut butter, et cetera. The entire package looked as though it had just come out of a bakery.<p>

And boy, did it look delicious. Feeling his stomach growl angrily, Zack hastily cut off a slice of bread and covered it with what seemed like strawberry jam. Taking a bite, he shuddered a little as he realized how good the baked good tasted.

"Oh, god…" He closed his eyes. "I think my mouth just had a tiny, tiny orgasm."

Cody chuckled as he cut off his own slice.

"You exaggerate. It can't possibly be that good. I've been out of practice."

"I'm not exaggerating, and somehow I'm not surprised that you made this. Your baking was always fantastic."

Cody took a bite of the bread, and shrugged.

"Meh…not good enough."

Zack stared at him as though he were crazy.

"You don't have to be so modest, you know. It really does taste good!"

"Yes, but…" Cody looked at his slice, with a bite taken out from one end, and stared at it contemplatively. "It doesn't exactly meet the standard I had reached for baking when I was still a kid, you know? I'll need to practice more."

Zack couldn't help but smile. He had missed Cody's perfectionist nature. It might have somehow rubbed off on him in the kitchen.

"So…what's up?"

"What, I can't have lunch with my own brother?" Cody said mockingly, which led to a friendly punch on the shoulder.

"You know what I mean…why aren't you at work?"

"I took two weeks off. Oh, and my transfer got approved. Boston Medical will send me a letter with information on my new place of work."

"That's good, glad you did it bro. Now you can at least forget about _that._" Zack waved the air around him, trying to shrug off the significance of his brother's move.

"Speaking of letters…" Cody paused. "Bailey sent me one."

Zack nearly spit out his bread.

"Wait…she what?"

"Yeah, she was _that_ insincere." Cody chuckled a little as he recalled the contents of the letter, remembering how incredibly laughable reading it had been. "She was completely arrogant, saying that she's the best thing I'll ever have, and loads of other crap. I have no idea what I saw in her, really."

"The nerve of that girl." Zack growled under his breath, wondering how such a person could possible exist. At least a person would call after making that kind of mistake. "Could I see the letter?"

"Well, I would show it to you…" Cody couldn't help but smile. "But I've already burned it."

The two brothers found themselves breaking into merry peals of laughter, causing the various waiting staff scattered around the dining room to look in their direction. They hardly ever saw the executive chef this happy. Esteban smiled at the two knowingly.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Zack struggled to enunciate his words.

"That's gold."

"I know. She wanted closure if I didn't want to continue the relationship, but I didn't see any sense in giving her that kind of pleasure." Cody stuck out his tongue childishly as he tried to convey the hilariousness of Bailey's written message.

Zack finally calmed himself down and finished the final slice of bread. Searching the basket, he lifted a piece of cloth covering a smaller container, causing his eyes to nearly fall out of his head.

"Cody…are those your…" Zack then looked at his brother with large, amusingly fearful eyes. "Award winning chocolate-chip cookies?"

Cody rolled his eyes at Zack. His brother always had a flair for the dramatic.

"If you mean the ones that I made for the Tipton ball when we were twelve, yes. Hopefully they taste good, I mean I'm _really _out of practice."

Zack grabbed one of the large cookies and took a huge bite. It crumbled instantly, the perfect texture that Zack demanded from any cookies that he ate. The chocolate melted sinfully into his mouth, and he shuddered yet again.

"Yes…oh, _yes_."

Cody laughed out loud at Zack's simulated food orgasm.

"Eat up. I've still got a few finished batches at home. Treat it as a thank you for what you did that night. It was mentioned in the letter. Thanks, Zack."

Zack smiled warmly.

"I got your back, bro."

The two brothers continued munching on Cody's impeccably scrumptious chocolate chip cookies. Both started reminiscing about the past, as the scenario they were currently in quickly exposed the de ja vu of the situation.

Zack and Cody, sitting facing each other, chewing on cookies like they were kids again.

The moment was incredibly 2005-ish.

They ate silently, enjoying the quiet moment. The air was thick with childish affection.

Another thought then crept into Zack's mind. He tried to shake it away, but failed. The appeal from an idea he had just received was inescapable.

He then looked at his brother, who sat in front of him, chewing one of his self-baked cookies. _Would he?_

_Perhaps,_ he thought to himself. _You wouldn't know unless you asked._ Clearing his throat, he spoke up.

"Chef Paulo called."

Cody perked up at the sound of the familiar name.

"Paulo? As in the head chef of the Tipton's main restaurant, _that_ Paulo?"

"Exactly. I was surprised as well." Zack picked up the glass of water that was sitting on the table, and took a sip out of it. "He's leaving the restaurant."

"What?" Cody cracked his shin on the table leg as it jerked involuntarily in shock. He furiously rubbed away the pain. "No way! Why is he quitting? Did Ivana say his food tasted bad again?"

"Nope, believe it or not, health reasons." Zack gazed at his brother, wondering if he had contemplated that simple reason in the first place.

"You helped him a lot with your 'moderation' thing, but it wasn't enough. He's retiring to look after his health better. It probably would help, he'd be further away from the cheese which he works with every day."

Cody grimaced.

"Well…it probably would. It's a pity though, He's such a good chef. I haven't eaten there in ages, but I bet the food is still as good."

"I would kill for a good Chicken Paulo right now." Zack stared dreamily upwards, spacing out.

Cody then furrowed his eyebrows.

"Wait…why did he call you?"

Zack snapped back into reality.

"Apparently news of my appearance at the Tipton that day spread pretty fast amongst the staff. I have no idea how he realized I was the chef of this restaurant, though. Funny how quickly news can spread…"

"Zack, _why_ did he call you?"

Zack then looked his brother straight in the eye.

"He wants me to take over the restaurant."

Cody was at a loss for words.

"He wants me to expand my business to the Tipton."

"Zack, that's incredible!" Cody found his voice again, and gripped the edge of the table excitedly. "You could make the restaurant an even bigger success!"

Zack shook his head.

"I'm not doing it."

Cody's face fell. "What?"

"I'm not doing it. I'm already busy enough with Martini, and I don't think having another restaurant will help quality much. I always like to be present whenever my restaurant runs, I'm a more hands-on kind of guy, you know?"

Cody sighed.

"That's too bad, but I understand what you mean. I would hate to see this restaurant suffer if you were also looking after the other one simultaneously."

"Unless…"

Cody looked at his brother, who was now staring at him with a strange twinkle in his eye.

"Unless what?"

Zack leaned over the table.

"Unless _you_ do it."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note <strong> - Abracadabra! Another chapter. I apologize if some of you find the professional kitchen part too much of a filler, but I realize I did promise my readers an insight into the restaurant business, so I decided to put it in here when tensions in the plot weren't too high. That part is partially inspired by the highly successful FOX series "Hell's Kitchen" starring Gordon Ramsay and the book _Kitchen Confidential_ written by Anthony Bourdain. None of them belong to me, they only inspired that bit.

Plus I felt it would be nice for you guys to see Zack operating in the middle of service. I did mention that he does get angry in the first few chapters, but no one has seen it yet, so ta-da to you all.

We have not seen the last of Bailey, so brace yourselves. Also, I can promise a particularly sad part for the next chapter, in case some of you were missing that. Whether Cody decides to take up the offer of not…I'll leave that for you guys to guess. It'll be revealed as the story nears its end.

Fourteen chapters! I can hardly believe it. The story is nearing its end, I expect to finish it by the end of December. Frequent readers, do stick around to the Epilogue, and perhaps introduce the story to some of your other online friends. Some additional exposure would be fantastic. Special thanks to ilovesprouse and KatrinaEagle for reviewing nearly every chapter.

Reviews appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	16. Chapter 15

**Food Therapy – Chapter 15**

"What?"

Cody was in shock. Did his brother just ask him to _run a restaurant_?

"Cody, have you ever wanted to run your own restaurant?"

Admittedly, the doctor had contemplated such a future for himself in the past, when he had first discovered his passion for the culinary arts, which he kept constrained to the suite kitchen and occasionally the Tipton restaurant kitchen. Cody had always felt safe when working alongside food, but he also knew that to join the industry after so long in another completely different one would probably not be a good career move.

"I _have _thought about it…" Cody spoke slowly, hoping his brother would understand the point he was driving at. "But I'm already a doctor. Besides, I've never been to culinary school, unlike you, who went to one of the best culinary schools in America. How would I succeed at running an entire restaurant?"

"Codes, most of the time I spent at the CIA was spent learning how to properly _sauté scallops, sear steaks, fillet fishes_." Zack ticked off the items by counting with his fingers. "All basic kitchen stuff which a good chef should know how to do. You already knew how to do that all when you were a kid! You're a child prodigy when it comes to cooking!"

"Then what did you spend the rest of the time learning?"

"How to be imaginative and passionate about cooking." Zack grinned. "I'm pretty damn sure that you already know all about that. These cookies," he said, while holding up one of Cody's cookies, with a large bite taken out of one end, "are testaments to _that_."

"But, but…" Cody stuttered as he slowly lost his point. "All the cooking I've ever done was done at home and the Tipton kitchen! How would I be able to adapt?"

"Cody, I for one can assure you that you'll be able to adapt." Zack spoke patiently. "I'll guide you through the first few months so you can run the Tipton kitchen. Besides, the staff there aren't leaving with Chef Paulo, I think, and they're all friendly with you. You've also spent much of your childhood time in _that very kitchen_ learning alongside a master in the craft, so you'd already be used to your working surroundings. You really couldn't ask for a better place or situation to adapt to."

Cody sat back in his chair. All of Zack's points were perfectly valid, yet there was one crucial point that was still keeping him from jumping onto the cooking bandwagon.

"Zack…I'm passionate about cooking, but I'm also passionate about medicine."

There was a quick silence as Cody paused before continuing.

"I've worked for years at medical school just so I could become a doctor. I made the decision to walk on the path of medicine years ago; I can't just possibly give that all away. I'm a _doctor_, Zack."

Another pause.

"It's just what I do."

The two brothers sat in silence as Cody sipped his water, waiting for a response from his brother. It was a pity, but he had other responsibilities as a doctor that he could not easily give up. He had pledged doing the graduation ceremony at Yale Medical School, alongside his other fellow doctors, to do his best to save and protect the lives of his patients. It had been a joyous moment.

How could he throw that away?

"I understand."

Cody looked up at his brother, who was nodding. His expression was slightly disappointed, but understanding.

"I know what you're talking about. If someone asked me to leave the restaurant to do something else, I probably would say no as well."

Zack raised his own glass to his lips.

"I understand what you mean, Codes. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks."

There was now slight tension in the air. Attempting to break it, Cody looked into the basket and saw a lone cookie sitting in the basket, calling for saliva.

"Do you want the last cookie?"

Zack peered into the basket before grinning.

"Don't mind if I do."

The cookie vanished between Zack's gaping jaws at the speed of lightning. Cody couldn't help but smile.

"Pig."

Zack frowned at the quip.

"Goody-two-shoes."

"Dirty mess."

"Clean freak."

"Lazy bum…wait, that one doesn't really work anymore, does it?"

"Yep, so I win." Zack stretched out in arms in victory, prompting a few scoffs from Cody. "And thanks for lunch, you're fantastic at baking."

"You're welcome, anytime. I'll be free for the next two weeks anyway, so anytime you want lunch, just give me a call."

"Next time, it'll be _my _treat." Zack smiled.

Cody returned the smile. "I'll hold you to that."

They stood up simultaneously. Cody placed the cloths back into the basket and picked it up. Almost immediately a nearby waiter walked quickly to the table and cleaned off any excess crumbs, leaving the table ready for the next customer to appear at dinner service.

"One last thing…"

Zack looked significantly more serious now, causing Cody to raise his eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes, Zack?"

Zack put his hands around Cody's shoulders and steered him to a corner of the dining room, away from the listening ears of the waiting staff. Under his breath, he spoke.

"I was thinking, since you're free for these two weeks…"

Cody crossed his arms, waiting for Zack to get to his point.

"Erm…where's mom?"

Cody's mouth fell in surprise. He had not expected this question.

"Zack, mom's already…"

"No, no, I mean…" Zack waved his arms wildly about. "Where's she…erm…_resting_?"

_Ohh…_Cody slapped himself mentally for even considering that Zack thought their mother was still alive. He then realized the sensitivity of the topic and understood Zack's reason for not wanting eavesdroppers. The sound of Zack's voice awoke him from his trance.

"I never really had the chance…to say goodbye."

There was insurmountable sadness in his eyes. Cody felt sad for his brother somewhat.

"She's resting at the Boston Memorial, but it's a large place and her grave isn't easy to find." He then realized why his brother had brought up his two weeks of leave. "Would you like to…meet up sometime this week so I can bring you there?"

Zack smiled sadly, thankful that his brother had caught the hint. It would have been too hard for him to see her alone.

"Yes…that would be great. Thanks, Codes."

"No problem. Erm…call me whenever."

The two brothers then parted ways for the day, feeling slightly more morose than before. One of them was feeling particularly upset.

* * *

><p>It was Tuesday.<p>

Bailey had arrived early at the coffee place near the hospital and ordered a latte. Sitting down at a table, she confidently waited for her boyfriend to show up, positive that he would arrive.

He never did.

Lunch period ended.

Feeling dejected, Bailey walked back to the hospital alone, in disbelief that Cody had just given up on her. She was sure that with his sensitive nature, he would succumb. Apparently she had thought wrong.

She then felt the urgent need to speak to him, regardless of how he would feel about her afterwards.

The trauma department was located a different wing from the large hospital, nearly at opposite ends from the pediatrics department. After paging a colleague that she would be back slightly late from lunch, her legs guided her to the desk of the department where Cody worked. She hardly ever came to this part of the hospital, the area feeling much more foreign, and somehow much colder.

She walked up to the information desk. The receptionist looked up.

"Erm, hi. I'm Bailey Pickett." She held up her tag. "I work at the pediatrics department, and I'm looking for Doctor Cody Martin."

The receptionist stared at her apologetically.

"I'm sorry, madam, but Doctor Martin is on leave."

"Oh," said Bailey in a quiet voice. "In that case, I'll look for him when he comes back. When does his leave end?"

The receptionist keyed in Cody's name into her computer and scanned for staffing information.

"His leave lasts for two weeks, but I'm afraid he still won't be back then. You see, I just received an email earlier today from my superiors at the staffing department that Doctor Martin has requested a transfer to another hospital. It has been approved and the logistics department is now dealing with the papers."

Bailey's jaw, and then heart, fell. She had definitely not anticipated this. _Transfer?_ He was willing to leave the hospital just so he could get away from her!

"I see." Her voice started shaking uncontrollably with emotion as she turned away from the desk. "Thank you very much."

"Hang on…" the receptionist removed her glasses and scrutinized the doctor closely. "Did you say you were Bailey Pickett?"

"Yes!" Bailey turned quickly back to the desk, hope rising in her chest. "Did Cody leave me a message?"

She did not expect the receptionist's eyes turning cold.

"In fact, he did. Before he had left for his leave, he left some interesting information with his colleagues, warning them about a certain Miss Pickett. The news has…spread amongst the staff."

Bailey's eyes widened.

"He also left a message should you come looking for him." Snatching up a post-it from the side of her table, the receptionist read it with contempt. "He asks that you do not look for him, or try to contact him in any way. Good day, Miss Pickett."

The receptionist returned to her computer, ignoring Bailey's gaping mouth and gigantic eyes.

It was over.

Cody absolutely _hated _her now.

Dejectedly, Bailey slowly walked away from the receptionist desk. Removing a tissue from her pocket, she wiped her eyes, trying to let the news of the official break-up set in.

She tried to calm herself.

As she walked back to the pediatrics department (which felt like the longest walk of her life), she noticed a few doctors staring at her with odd expressions in their eyes. Thinking she was imagining things, she pushed open the door to the pediatric ward and stepped in.

Immediately, she saw the eyes of her fellow colleagues on her, cold and distant, judgingher.

A colleague and good friend of her spoke.

"Bailey…I just heard something from friends at the other departments during lunch."

A few of the doctors set down what they were doing and stared at her. From the corner of the room, her superior, a senior pediatrician, crossed his arms.

_Oh, hell._

* * *

><p>It was Sunday, easily the busiest day in the weekly calendar for Ristorante Martini, and yet the restaurant was closed. Esteban, upon receiving instructions from the executive chef the night before, had called up the numbers attached to the reservations and apologized for the inconvenience, offering them a reservation on a different day and perhaps a free side dish then.<p>

It was a special day.

A bouquet of Carey Martin's favorite flowers in his hand, Zack sat in the passenger seat of his brother's red convertible, gazing through the window and not wanting to talk. As he turned the steering wheel when appropriate, Cody wondered how his brother must be feeling at this point.

_Sad, perhaps, _he thought. _And maybe guilty_.

He had forgiven his brother a long time ago, and he was sure that if his mother was still alive she would have as well, but he was sure that his brother had not forgiven himself.

He usually didn't drive at these roads of Boston. As the roads became slightly more familiar, Cody tried to count the number of times he had travelled to their destination, knelt in front of the grave and cried about the unfairness of life.

_Uncountable times_.

As he arrived at the parking lot, he steered the car into a free space and parked it.

They had arrived.

Zack opened the car door first. Cody followed after, and the two begin the walk to their mother's grave.

It was incredibly surreal. The ghosts of the past, rising as invisible spirits from their graves, cooled the morning air as they watched the two brothers walking together for the first time, about to meet the other member of their family.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a not-so-unfamiliar spot. Zack then realized that his mother had been buried right beside his father.

The entire family, now together.

Cody had originally planned to not say anything and to let Zack have as much time as he needed with their parents, but Zack was now frozen to one spot, his mouth opening and closing like fish, shaking slightly.

He was afraid.

Knowing that perhaps his brother needed a prompt, Cody cleared his throat and spoke loudly to the two gravestones in front of him.

"Hi Mom, Hi Dad."

Zack shuffled closer to his brother.

"It's Cody. I'm here again. Sorry I haven't come in two months, it's been really busy for me at work. I'm doing fine at the hospital. In a few weeks I'm transferring to another one, hopefully things will work out well there."

He tried to keep a conversational tone, with Zack trembling beside him.

"I would say more, but today I've brought someone with me. I hope you can sense him."

Wrapping his arm around his brother's waist, Cody slowly nudged Zack forward.

"Come on, Zack."

He moved his arm up to Zack's shoulder and rested it there, half hugging him.

_I'm here_.

Strengthened by Cody's presence, Zack tried to find words.

"Hi Mom, Hi Dad."

Cody nodded, willing Zack to go on.

"It's Zack. Zack Martin."

He cleared his throat, which was already swelling up with emotion.

"I haven't seen you guys in a while. I've really missed you, and I'm sorry I didn't come."

He started getting choked up. Cody squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm…doing fine. I've owned a restaurant for the past year, it's been doing pretty well."

The tears were starting to come. Zack wiped them away furiously with the back of his hand.

"Hope you guys are doing okay…up there."

There was something he was dying to say. Turning to face his mother's gravestone, he fell to his knees on the earth in front of it. The dry soil was sprinkled into the air, dust rich with the essence of the past.

"Mom…"

He rested his palms on the earth, trying to feel for his mother's presence under it. The ground felt somewhat warm.

"I'm so…"

He bowed his head and faced the ground. The dry soil was wet due to an increasing flow of droplets of salty liquid hitting it.

"…so sorry."

He couldn't stop the tears now.

Bowing his head down so low that it touched the ground, Zack sobbed like a baby for the first time in a long time.

"I was…stupid…I'm so…" He gasped for breath. "…sorry."

Behind him, Cody placed his hands on his hips and faced away, staring at the blue sky. Warm tears were finding their way down his own cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away.

"I know you can't possibly forgive me, mom." Zack shuddered as the tears flowed uncontrollably. "I can't forgive myself for doing something like…this."

Cody placed a hand to his eyes as he choked a little.

"If you forgive me, mom…" Zack looked up and stared at Carey's picture engraved into the gravestone. She was smiling happily back at him, a mother, smiling at her beloved son. Upon seeing her face in front of him, Zack started bawling madly.

"…give me…a sign. Any sign."

A rumble. The sound of thunder.

Almost instantly, foreign moisture hit the top of Zack's head, surprising him and temporarily breaking his steady flow of sadness. More drops hit the top of the two gravestones. Following after, a huge number of countless drops of liquid fell from the heavens, drenching the dry earth. Zack and Cody looked up simultaneously.

It was starting to rain.

And there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

The shower that followed was gentle and non-threatening, washing the tears off the two brother's faces. Shaken, Zack crawled directly in front of the gravestone, knelt down, and kissed his mother's picture.

_Love forgives._

"I love you."

He started weeping again.

Cody placed his own bouquet of flowers on his father's grave. Buttoning up his jacket, he strode away, giving Zack time to spend alone with his parents.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note <strong>- A much shorter chapter this time round, but I hope you liked it. I did promise something sad during the last Author's Note, so hopefully I managed to deliver what I promised.

Reviews appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	17. Chapter 16

**Food Therapy – Chapter 16**

Zack felt positively miserable.

The visit to the graveyard was supposed to be _therapeutic_. It was supposed to help Zack take a step in getting over his guilt, a burden held in his heart for the past decade. After the visit today, however, Zack felt worse than ever. The unexplainable sudden shower, a likely message from his mother to him from the heavens, helped to ease his pain somewhat, washing away part of the harrowing grief.

The moment had passed, however, and he once again felt terrible.

He felt terrible for getting drunk and driving without a license.

He felt terrible for killing his mother.

He felt terrible for running away, for leaving Cody without a brother for ten years when he had needed him most.

The ride back to the heart of the city was a silent one. Zack, drained due to sorrow and anguish, couldn't find the strength to say anything to his brother, and had resorted to merely staring out at the sky through the windscreen in front of him. The sky, its momentary drizzle completed, wore a shade of azure blue that seemed to mock Zack to his very core.

He didn't notice when they had arrived back at the Tipton hotel. The walk to suite 2330 was also a blur in his memory. Before he knew it, the door to their childhood suite had been opened. Cody stretched out the pull-out couch and sat Zack down in front. He then realized that Zack was shivering. Grabbing a blanket from his room, he wrapped Zack in it and told him to rest on the bed.

Zack nodded in affirmation before almost immediately dropping off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Cody looked at the clock and saw it read noon. He didn't realize that they had spent so much time at the graveyard. Most of the time had been spent by Zack, sitting down in front of the graves and staring at them, saying nothing. The sight had been sad, yet important. Cody understood the significance of today's visit.<p>

_It's the only way he can begin to heal._

He was glad that he was able to be part of it.

As his stomach gave a rumble, he then realized exactly how hungry he was. _It's lunchtime, anyway_. Looking at his sleeping brother on the couch, he had a sudden brainwave, which ten years ago would have been an everyday routine.

_Cook._

Of course.

It was time to get the chef back into his zone.

His first move, of course, was to search the refrigerator and shelves for any usable ingredients. His best find was a bag of flour at the lowest shelf of the cupboard.

He smiled. _Bingo._

With nearly unperceivable speed, Cody snatched up the four eggs he had found in the fridge and cracked them open, watching as the yolks and transparent liquid flowed into the large bowl. Making a mound with the floor on the bench, he scooped open a well at the center and poured the eggs into it. Sprinkling some salt into the eggs, he started to work the eggs and flour together. Soon, he had smooth dough in front of him.

The process, though un-visited for a decade, was strangely fresh in his mind. Only the omniscient reader of their story would be able to recognize the significance of the moment.

He began kneading, closing his eyes as he always did as a child when making pasta, focusing on getting the perfect texture for the dough.

Unknowingly, he transported himself deep inside his memory, memories of the past flowing into him. Barriers blocking access to the past, now strewn aside, forgotten.

_A mental picture of Zack and Cody on the beach, back when they were merely 6. The twins were playing tag with the waves, their feet hitting the warm sand on the shore and scurrying backwards as they made make-believe with the water that crawled forward and descended with the tide. Behind them were their parents, lying down lazily on a pair of beach chairs, soaking up the sun's rays, holding hands._

_The next picture came. Cody was sitting on his bed with his knees held firmly to his chest, sobbing silently. Zack, feeling guilty for the nasty prank he had just played on Cody, slowly walked to the bed and sat down beside his little brother. He swallowed his young pride and gave a heartfelt apology, asking for Cody's forgiveness. Cody looked up and nodded. The two embraced._

_Next, the two brothers walked into Suite 2330 for the first time, thrilled at the sight of their new home. Immediately they dropped their bags and started jumping enthusiastically on the couch, only stopping when their mother reprimanded them. Moving swiftly to avoid a lecture, Zack and Cody went into their new room and gasped in awe. It had been a while since they had a proper room to stay in. They high-fived happily and leapt into their new beds, testing the bedsprings._

_Another memory, then another, then another. A multitude of forgotten memories rushed forward and exposed themselves to their master._

_Cody poured 4 cracked eggs into a well of flour. After adding a sprinkle of salt he began to squeeze and knead the dough till it reached his desired consistency. He stuck his tongue out absentmindedly, as he always did when he cooked. Zack sat on the couch flipping between channels on the television, occasionally stealing a glimpse at his brother. He didn't know that Cody was perfectly aware that his brother was spying on him. Zack was always fascinated about cooking, but he had never let on._

_In half an hour the dish was completed. Cody carefully poured the reduced sauce over the two plates of freshly prepared penne. Zack licked his lips hungrily and picked up the fork, stabbing into the food greedily. Cody shook his head in mock amusement at his brother's inexistent table manners and took his own fork. Zack pushed the pasta into his open mouth, tasted it, and gasped at it in sheer wonder, amazed as to how a few movements in the kitchen can churn out something as delicious as this._

_Cody smiled at his older brother as he devoured his artwork._

Cody opened his eyes with a gasp as he realized that his eyes, previously dry, were now threatening to spill over with intense emotion. With some doubt he attributed the sudden wave of sentimentality to the depressing experience of the morning, but deep inside he knew that wasn't the primary cause. Taking a few deep breaths, he waited as the moisture collecting behind his eyelids withdrew back into his tear ducts. Aside from being oddly emotional, he had just experienced an out-of-the-blue epiphany into the past.

What had caused it?

Cody didn't know, but the experience, though fleeting, left a powerful impression in his mind. As he racked his brain for the memorial trigger, Cody looked down and stared at the half finished dough resting in a clump on the tabletop, his practiced fingers still resting within it.

Could it be?

The thought of a physical, seemingly unrelated object being the trigger sounded ridiculous as he said it to himself in his head, but as he took a few more seconds to contemplate the possibility, it no longer seemed too preposterous or absurd.

The trigger might just have been (God forbid) _pasta._

What was food, anyway?

Food could be defined as nourishment, perhaps. The primary source of nourishment, something to be foraged, cultivated or hunted for consumption, its name coined by the same ancestors of the past whose children now sometimes treat it as a luxury good, paying absurd amounts of currency to sit with it in fine dining restaurants with rich ambiance. Food had nutrients that people need for survival. Food stops people from being hungry by keeping their digestive systems and alimentary canals happy. Man needs _food_.

But was food really all that _simple_? Was that really all there was to it?

As a self-proclaimed child practitioner of the culinary arts, and as a person whose life, especially in recent times, had been so deeply affected by this seemingly immobile and 'dead' category of objects, Cody definitely didn't think so. Food was so much more than _that_.

Food was a harbinger of emotion, in a very therapeutic sense. Wasn't he someone who had months ago teared up after tasting a beautifully cooked plate of Veal Saltimbocca? Wasn't he someone who had constantly returned to the same Italian restaurant every Wednesday just so he could maintain that emotional connection with the food presented by the restaurant? Wasn't he someone who had found inexplicable joy in placing a fresh batch of his chocolate chip cookies in the oven and sitting as a twelve year old in the kitchen, just staring and waiting for them to bake? Didn't he _feel_ for food?

Food was a developer of bonds. Wasn't it the tasting of the peanut butter pasta and the beef lasagna with white chocolate sauce that had alerted Cody to the fact that there was something up with Martini's executive chef? Wasn't it the channel through which Cody could ease and soothe his relationship with his brother over a simple meal of bread and cookies? Wasn't it the hidden connection that he had with his brother at the eleventh hour of every Wednesday night?

Food was a flavor of flavors, intoxicating and addictive should one know how to appreciate it. The experience of eating was an art form in itself, a masterpiece's flavors (savory, sweet, sour, spicy, salty, unami) meet a wide variety of textures (soft and giving, wet and slippery, chewy, light and heavy, leafy and limp, crunchy and tender) meet an array of colors that appeal to one's eyes as much as one's tongue (bright red chillies, white sprouts, green vegetables, reddish-pink raw meat). A God-given pleasure. A lust satisfied without sin.

So what was stopping him? Was it really the fact that he was afraid of a change in career? It was somewhat true that the food industry, beneath all its glamour and pleasure, was a vicious one to work in. Setting up a restaurant was definitely no mean feat. Was this why he didn't want to do it?

_Not so much, _a voice inside him said. His entering the medical field was a huge risk in itself.

Then was it due to the fact that he truly felt that he wanted to help people, and that medicine was the way to go? Cody had indeed felt pleased in his experience as a doctor when patients looked up at him with awed expressions, thanking their savior for a job well done. Humans were, as much as they tried to deny it, egoistic beings that thrive on recognition, and it was true that medicine did present Cody with much of the appreciation that, in some sense, he had been denied as a child.

However, medicine definitely had an ugly side. Cody had countless times been manhandled by grief-stricken relatives of patients he had failed (despite his best efforts) to save. Medical school, beneath its motto of training doctors to save lives, was in some sense cold. The cool blade of the scalpel, the intense smell of formaldehyde, the white coats and latex gloves. It was, as sometimes Cody admitted to himself, too cold for a person like him. Medicine saves lives, but sometimes kills souls, as much as everyone would hate to admit.

_Besides, is medicine the only way you can help people?_ A small voice inside him rang out timidly.

Cody once again looked down at his fingers, still sticking into the half-finished pasta dough, and thought about the times where food had helped him, guided him, saved him.

Perhaps food was therapy in itself.

There was something, however, still holding him back despite all that.

He finished molding the rest of the dough into spaghetti. Upon its completion, he threw a handful of the finished pasta into the pot and started preparing his desired sauce. Tomato.

His brother, the executive chef of his favorite restaurant, lay on the couch behind him, fast asleep.

* * *

><p>After fielding dangerous questions from colleagues throughout yesterday, Bailey was now lying on her bed, completely and utterly exhausted. Cody's final revenge had been to place her in a situation where she didn't answer to him regarding her betrayal, but her peers who were not involved at all in their relationship, making the pain cut more. If Love were a game of strategy, Cody just played a brilliant hand. She knew that yesterday would not be the last she heard of her sluttiness by the hospital staff.<p>

She, also, felt completely guilty and deserving. There was no doubt that she had done something unspeakable. In retrospect, the letter had probably not been the best idea she had had. Cody had probably torn it up or disposed of it in some way.

Then again, it was completely unlike him to do something like that.

_Where did he get the strength to do this?_ Cody's meek and easily manipulated personality was one of the reasons why Bailey had gotten into a relationship with him in the first place. She wanted to be in a relationship where she was the boss and could do as she wanted. Was Cody stronger than she had thought?

Or was there external influence?

Her expression darkened as she recalled the incidents of a few days ago.

**Flashback**

She twisted her head around to the door as the sound of a loud pounding came from outside the apartment. Nervously, she walked up to the door and looked through the peephole.

It was him.

Her heart pounding loudly in his chest, she decided to do an impromptu show of affection, hoping it would throw him off his game. She opened the door.

"Cody!"

She opened her arms wide and threw herself at the man standing at the door, and was pushed back by his strong right arm.

Nearly losing her balance, she tried her best to look hurt at his iciness, till she saw the look on his face and shrank inwardly. She managed to stutter out his name again.

"Cody…"

The man stared back at her with fiery eyes.

"I'm afraid not."

_What?_ Bailey was taken aback. The man continued, in a deep and threatening voice.

"My name is Zack. Zack Martin. Cody's twin brother."

Bailey vaguely remembered Cody sharing with her about a long lost brother before. Was this really the boy who had disappeared seven years ago after his prison term ended? Upon closer observation she realized obvious differences between the man standing in front of her door and Cody. Trying to be polite, she stuck out her hand.

"Cody mentioned you before, Zack. It's nice to meet you."

Zack ignored her outstretched hand and continued staring straight at her, boring his eyes into her soul. She had a faint hint of why he was here tonight. Slowly, she lowered her hand, trying to ignore his rudeness.

"How may I help you?"

Zack went straight to the point.

"I don't want you to see Cody again."

Bailey was bewildered.

"What?"

"In case you still had _doubts_," he spat out the word. "He _did _see what happened between you and a certain other person tonight, and he's pretty torn up about it."

Bailey's heart sank to depths lower than she could have imagined. _So he did find out_.

"I'm speaking to you on his behalf right now. You've brought him enough grief, and therefore he no longer desires your company. I'm afraid things won't be very pleasant if you two do meet again. Have a nice day, Miss Pickett."

Zack turned on his heel to leave. Bailey, affronted at the fact that she had just been blown off a relationship by not Cody himself, but his _brother_, shouted back at him.

"My relationship with Cody won't be over till we settle things between us! It's not over!"

Zack turned around. On his face was another glare, one that seethed with more hatred than before.

"Trust me, Miss Pickett. _It is_."

And with that, he left.

**End Flashback**

Bailey knew that Cody's sudden coldness was probably brought about through influence from his brother. She suspected that somehow, Cody felt he was being protected by his brother and could now be braver in the face of situations like this.

She wasn't going to give up this easily. It was time for a face-off.

Grabbing her coat, she left her apartment, ready to drive to a certain hotel at the heart of Boston.

* * *

><p>"You're awake."<p>

Zack nodded silently in response to his brother's non-question. Sitting down at the kitchen table, he rubbed his eyes. Almost instantly, his nose was hit by a whiff of a certain aromatic entity.

"What the…were you cooking? What is that?"

Cody smiled. He hadn't cooked pasta in a long time.

"Spaghetti and Meatballs. I haven't cooked stuff like this in a while, so I supposed I should do something traditional to ease myself back into the game."

"Makes a lot of sense. I love a good Spaghetti and Meatballs." Zack smiled back.

Cody set down the two plates of pasta on the kitchen table as Zack's stomach gave a rumble. Picking up a fork, Zack stabbed into one of the large meatballs sitting in their brown, crusty glory amongst the sea of pasta and red tomato sauce. He shuddered with pleasure as a little moisture from the juicy beef oozed out as he penetrated the sphere.

"I swear this is like food porn. It looks so good that I'm…orgasming even before I taste it."

Cody shuddered with mock disgust at his brother's choice of words, while privately jumping for joy inside.

"Taste it, you sick bastard," scolded Cody in a humorous fashion, such that Zack knew that he didn't actually mean the insult.

Zack stuck the meatball into his mouth and sucked it, relishing the bumpy texture of the meat and the familiar taste of sweet, sweet childhood.

"I just climaxed. Don't mind me." Zack rolled his eyes into his head as far as they could go and make a few obscene noises, earning a light punch from Cody.

"No sex with the food at the kitchen table, thank you very much."

"Where else would you have sex with food?"

Cody frowned at his brother.

"There are knives which I've kept away around this kitchen, Zack, and I'm pretty sure they're still sharp."

Zack raised his hands in front of him in an indication of defeat. "Alright, alright, you win. The meatballs really do taste good."

I'm glad you like it, and I'm also glad," Cody sat down and picked up his own fork. "That you're feeling better."

"I am, thanks." Zack stuck his fork into the pasta and spun it around, watching as the strands of spaghetti rolled around the tines of the fork. "It's funny what food can do to your mood. It's a little…therapeutic, don't you think?"

Zack's words caused Cody to pause for a while. _Just what I was thinking._

The two brothers tucked into the pasta, relishing the amalgam of beef, pasta, and tomato. Zack occasionally let out a few spontaneous fake orgasm noises, earning a few glares from Cody.

"Dude, seriously…are you sure you won't reconsider that restaurant thing?" Zack said, in the middle of the mouthful of pasta. "You obviously still have it. I mean, seriously! Have you _tasted _this pasta?" He continued attacking the strands of dough vivaciously.

"I've…actually been thinking about it."

Zack paused his attack and looked up at his brother.

"Oh…" he said, in a much quieter voice. "Well…what do you think?"

Cody looked up at his brother, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I've weighed out the pros and cons of leaving medicine to become a chef, but there's something else. There's something I still can't let go of completely. It's the reason why I don't feel good leaving my career in medicine."

Zack nodded slowly.

"Well, just…take your time, man. I'm not gonna force you into doing anything until you're sure you want to do it. Just out of curiosity…what _is_ the reason?"

"Well, don't get mad at me for saying this, but…"

Cody was cut off but a few knocks on the door of the suite. Looking at his brother with a confused expression, Cody stood up and walked to the door. He opened it.

"Cody…"

_Dammit, where's the goddamned closure!_

Zack stood up from his chair quickly upon realizing who it was.

Cody arched his eyebrows in anger at the woman standing in front of him.

"I believe I left you a message at the hospital."

Furiously, he slammed the door in her face.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note – <strong>Yet another chapter completed! I told you all it wouldn't be the last we've seen of Bailey, she'll be in the next chapter as well. Also, I'd like to say (in case I invoked criticism for this) that I support the medical industry one hundred percent, and that all jobs have pros and cons. For the purpose of this story, however, I have to construct an argument out of _something_.

Reviews appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	18. Chapter 17

**Food Therapy – Chapter 17**

Flushing heavily, Cody turned on his heel and walked away from the door he had just slammed in Bailey's face. Apparently he was trying to ignore the fact that Bailey had ever existed. It was a reasonable course of action, but it had severe implications to his future mental health. Zack, realizing the danger of simply ignoring the problem, decided to do the opposite of what he had done a week ago.

He strode up to the closed door and opened it to see an affronted and hurt Bailey still standing outside in disbelief, who then looked surprised at Zack's sudden appearance. Frowning a little to ensure his discontent with the girl, he held up his index finger.

"Give us _one_ moment."

He then shut the door and turned around to see his brother staring at him incredulously, as though to ask him what the hell he was doing. Zack walked up to him and grabbed him by his arms urgently.

"Cody, on second thought, it might be a good idea for you to face her one last time."

Cody looked positively affronted. He spluttered out his next words.

"What? Why? She's had her chance!"

"I know, but…" Zack gave the door a hasty glance, praying that the girl had had the sense to stay and not leave. "I think that if you want true closure, you'll have to talk to her face to face to clear things up."

"Then what about all that stuff you said that night about just forgetting about her and making her regret ever doing shit to me?"

"Ignore that, what I said was crap, really." Zack looked at Cody with anxious eyes. "Regardless of what she did to you, you've been hung up on her for quite a while, so I think it's best if this relationship ends on a healthier note, you know? Besides, this will help you get over her."

Cody spluttered.

"I…I'm already over her! What the hell are you talking about…" His voice gradually trailed away.

Zack shook his head, aghast.

"I can see it in your _eyes_, Cody. Don't try to hide these things from me; my twin telepathy is blinking wildly right now." Impatiently, he placed two hands on Cody's shoulders. "You're already sinking further into denial, and that's bad. Best to get all the crap out of system instead of letting it rest inside you for the rest of your life."

Cody shrugged off Zack's hands, and turned away from his brother, choosing instead to stare out the window. Suddenly, Zack understood, and with understanding came greater urgency.

_If he doesn't face her now, there'll be future trouble. We might even have to go back to that night._

In a dangerously quiet voice, he said his next line.

"She's the reason, isn't it?"

Cody perked up upon hearing the question, alarm bells ringing wildly in his head. He swallowed as the saliva in his mouth dried up.

"What?"

"She's the reason." Zack took a step forward cautiously, not wanting Cody to think that he was being threatened. "She's the reason why you can't pursue the career path that you want."

Cody nervously tapped his finger on the table. Zack took another step forward. Clearly, his brother needed prompting.

"You're afraid of completely being separated from her forever."

Upon hearing his dreaded words, Cody turned his head rapidly to the side to face his brother, his eyes now glowing dangerously red. The pain of the past year erupted within his body, expelled as anger and fury. Balling up his fists, he spat out a few words.

"Don't say that!"

"There's this little part of you that still wants her despite all that."

"Stop it, Zack!" Cody's voice rose angrily. This time, it was his turn to step forward. The bull was getting infuriated by the cloth of red, which was being nonchalantly swung from side to side. Despite the impending danger, Zack continued speaking with a blank expression on his face, as though the conversation were still casual.

"If you stop pursuing medicine, it's over isn't it? There will truly be no connection with her, and you're afraid of that kind of change."

"Zack, I'm warning you…"

"It's the truth, regardless of how much you try to deny it. You're afraid of that kind of change."

"That's not true! I'm over her!"

"Stop lying to yourself, Cody."

Zack wondered if Bailey, should she have listened to him and stayed outside the door, could hear their half-monotone, half-angry exchange. To some extent he hoped that she could, perhaps then it would give her a reason to stick around for the next part of his plan.

The picture of his brother in front of him, angry steam nearly emerging from his noise, was quite a sight to see. Zack knew that he was close to breaking point, and wondered if one more push would do it.

"She's going to leave, and you're afraid of that. Even though you say that you don't need her any more, you can't survive without her, can you? You're…" Zack took a few steps forward till he was face to face with his seething brother. Moving his head to Cody's left, he whispered his next word into his ear.

"…weak."

Something clicked in Cody's head. The voices were back.

A fist suddenly seemingly appeared out from nowhere and grabbed Zack's shirt collar at a blinding speed. A surprisingly large force lifted Zack off his feet and sent him flying backwards. A sudden, stinging sensation emerged from Zack's eye, and he realized that he had just been punched. For this fight, however, he didn't plan on retaliating. Zack then found himself winded as his back connected heavily with a wall, which was an impressive feat considering they had been standing close to the center of the living room.

There was then heavy breathing in his ear as his furious brother pushed out his words from his lungs.

"Fuck…you."

With the intense shaking, Zack wondered if his brother was having a seizure. He could feel his eye throbbing heavily. He kept quiet.

"I'm…over her."

Zack then looked straight into his brother's eyes, speaking with a voice as resolute as before.

"Then prove it."

* * *

><p>Bailey stepped back instinctively as the door to suite 2330 opened against her expectations. Looked closely at the face of the person standing in front of her, she breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted features that, despite the fact that the two in the apartment were twins, she could still recognize as being her lover's own.<p>

His eyes looked tired and bloodshot. The voice that emerged from his mouth, however, showed no weakness.

"Hello Bailey."

"Cody…"

"I apologize for my rudeness earlier." Bailey nearly raised an eyebrow at Cody's unexpected civility. "Please come in."

Cody gestured for her to enter the suite, an offer which she accepted quickly lest he changes his mind. A quick visual scan around the suite revealed to her that Zack, Cody's brother, was nowhere in sight.

_Might as well, _she thought to herself. _Dealing with just one is enough._

"Let's get to it."

Cody sat down at the kitchen table and gestured for Bailey to do the same.

"Do pardon me for not offering you a drink…if I do so it might mean that I'm okay with this."

Bailey frowned. The prospects of today's meeting were not appearing good. Glancing towards the shut door, she realized that she had placed herself in a situation where she couldn't escape from. The meeting she had wanted would occur with no interruptions. There was rising tension in her chest and the air around her. Could she have possibly let herself into a death trap for the relationship?

"Cody, I'm sorry for coming up to see you, but I just had to talk to you about this."

Cody rested his head on his elbow in a relatively calm expression.

"I agree. We should talk about this. Say what you need to say, I'll respond in turn."

Bailey swallowed. Cody seemed pretty docile. However, their meeting now seemed more like an interview than a conversation to heal a lovers-spat.

"Ok then. I'm not sure if you received the letter that I wrote to you, but I just wanted to say that I'm incredibly sorry for what happened that night. It came as a moment of weakness, Cody."

She paused to gauge his reaction, but Cody just continued staring straight at her, waiting for her to proceed with the rest of her entreaty.

She swallowed.

"I understand I was wrong, and I also realize that Moose is a huge jerk who I have no future with. I don't know if you've received it, but I wrote a letter to you about a week ago telling you how I've sifted through my options and decided that it would be best if I remained in a relationship with you. Please give me a chance, Cody."

Cody tapped the tabletop with his finger with a constant rhythm. What he was hearing from Bailey's lips was exactly the same as the content on a certain piece of paper he had read a week ago.

"I saw the letter."

Bailey perked up in surprise.

"I'm sorry?"

"I saw that letter which you sent. I just didn't send it back."

_What does this mean? _Bailey thought frantically to herself. Amidst the fear of what was coming, there was a rising hope in her chest. _Did he not send it back…because he didn't want things to be completely over?_

She prayed it was as such.

"I was hung up over you for an entire year, Bailey. It's only thanks to parts of my childhood that I can call it _one _of the worst years in my life."

Cody stood up slowly and walked to the kitchen, still talking.

"It was literal hell. I had fallen so in love with you that I would wake up …" Cody removed a soda can from the fridge. "And think you were there. And when I realized you weren't I'd wallow in self-disgust for the rest of the day, blaming what you had done on myself."

Bailey sat nailed to her seat, feeling more and more like a disgusting monster than ever. Having only occasionally crossed paths with Cody at the hospital, she had never detected his grief.

Cody drowned half the can of soda and steadied his shaking hand on the kitchen counter. It took him some effort to calm himself down.

"When you came up to me that day in the restaurant…"

Cody's hand applied a vice grip to the can, crumpling the aluminum inward a little.

"I was shocked, and wanted escape from the demons in my head. I genuinely thought that it was a great chance for us to resume where we left off. It was because despite having one entire year to grieve over the broken relationship, I still wasn't over you."

The rest of the soda was emptied into Cody. He then looked straight into Bailey's eyes, insistent on conveying this next message clearly, his mind more resolute than ever.

"That's why I need to thank you for pulling that stunt on me last week, Bailey. You see, before last week I thought there was a chance, but now I see that there's no hope of this working, ever. I am now totally…"

With precise aim, Cody swung the empty can across the room. It landed in the center of the trash bin.

"…over you."

Bailey found herself at a loss for words.

"Thanks for the closure. Hopefully this conversation between us will be sufficient for you to obtain it as well."

Bailey sat on the chair, trembling slightly. The last remaining shred of her will rang out quietly.

"Is there still any…"

"No." The answer came quickly, without hesitation. "We clearly have…different life goals. I want somebody who I can share a devoted relationship with, while clearly you want…pleasure. I'm not stepping into your territory again. Besides, it'll be better for the both of us. Any relationship we form now will almost definitely be unhealthy."

Cody then walked to the door.

"I will admit…I will miss the good times, but this is it, Bailey."

Bailey, finally giving up all hope of any forgiveness, stood without being asked to and stepped slowly forward to her future without Cody. The door was opened, with Cody standing at its side and gesturing towards it, a calm expression on his face.

"Thank you for your time, Bailey. I wish you all the best in your future endeavors."

He swallowed. _It is done_.

A tear threatened to roll out of her eyes, but Bailey squeezed it back in, desperate to contain her last remaining shred of dignity. As she stepped into the doorway, she paused and stared at the ground, perhaps to try for a little bit of remorse.

She then turned around to face the man whose heart she had played with. Her next and final line, though repeated many times over the past week, was the first sincere one, one that stood on its own without a mask of false tears.

"I'm sorry, Cody."

Cody's heart wanted to curse her into oblivion, to sentence her to an eternity of hatred, to crush all past memories of this witch, but he couldn't do it. What use would festering hatred in his heart be? Besides, he was supposed to be the sensitive one.

He had finished the relationship, and perhaps that was enough. He smiled, willing to withdraw one last act of graciousness for the woman he had once loved.

"I forgive you."

_Closure_.

Bailey smiled back, more sorry than ever for letting Cody go. Nodding slightly and mouthing a silent "thanks", she turned her head and walked to the elevator, ready to take her last walk out of the Tipton hotel and Cody's life forever.

Cody couldn't help but stare at the girl as she walked away. Letting out a heavy sigh, he stepped back into the suite and shut the door. Slowly, he closed his eyes as he recalled what he had just done.

_I've done it_.

_I'm free_.

He smiled. The demons in his head were finally gone. What remained was startling clarity.

The sound of a door opening caused him to open his eyes. A grinning Zack stepped out from his room, before touching his cheek and wincing a little.

"Before I tell you how proud I am of you, do you have any ice?"

* * *

><p>It was done.<p>

Zack sat at the table with an ice bag in his hand, pressed against his face. The stinging sensation was a small price to pay for the freedom of his brother (who now looked happier than he had ever seen him) and one of the most entertaining conversations he had eavesdropped on from behind Cody's bedroom door just a few minutes ago.

Cody, having found new exuberance in the sudden lightness of the air that he was breathing in, relished in preparing a second celebratory lunch (which went against his double meal principle) at the kitchen, working with more excitement than he could have mustered had he not completed his task.

He was ready to live again.

With a final sprinkle of parsley on the two plates, lunch number 2, Spaghetti alla puttanesca, was complete. He placed the plates on the kitchen table and watched as he brother threw down the ice bag and swallow the food ravenously.

"My god, that's spicy…" Zack continued pushing food into his mouth without pausing. "Spaghetti alla puttanesca? It's got just the right amount of spiciness that I like."

Cody shook his head and laughing quietly at his glutton of a brother. "I grew up cooking stuff like this in my own free time, Zack. You'd think I would know your taste in food."

Zack tried to say more, but was preoccupied with shoving more food into his gaping jaw. It was as though the earlier course of Spaghetti and Meatballs had vanished into thin air inside his belly. Cody smiled again, though this time he didn't know why.

_I can't stop smiling!_ He thought to himself (while smiling still). _What's wrong with me?_

His relationship had just ended, but he was thrilled. How weird was he?

He picked up his fork (Zack had gone through half of his own plate by then) and spoke in a casual tone.

"This second meal…take it as an apology for my outburst and that…punch earlier. I was somewhat overcome by rage. Also, thanks for your help."

Zack shrugged and stuck up his thumb, accepting the apology and the appreciation.

"Also, take it as a symbolic taste of what is to come in both our lives. May they be filled with spice to keep things exciting, but overall deliciousness."

Zack paused in his attack of the pasta to look up at his brother quizzically.

"When did you become so…prophetic suddenly?" Zack smirked. "Has the joy of the earlier moment rushed to your head?"

"Perhaps…" Cody smiled as he spun his fork around, watching the noodles wrap around its tines. "But I really mean it, though. You'll do fine I suppose, because you've already found success in Martini and all that. But for me, it'll be completely different. I'll be stepping into a new working environment and will have to adapt. I'm just hoping this change will be exciting."

"Dude, I'm sure you'll do fine. It's not like you've never worked with patients and other doctors before anyway. How much will a change in hospital matter?"

"That's not what I meant."

Zack looked into his brother's eyes and saw a tiny spark. It was hard to tell what it meant.

"I'm sorry?"

Cody placed the fork into his mouth and enjoyed the slight burning sensation of the spice, his taste buds hopping excitingly at the fullness of the flavor.

"What say we give Chef Paolo a call?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note <strong>- I apologise for this incredibly late update, I've been caught up by some life stuff which I just had to settle. As you can see, the story is definitely nearing its end. The long drawn conflict within Cody which I had played out for the last 17 chapters is finally complete, and all there's left to do is to tie up the loose ends and end the story on a good note. That's right ladies and gentlemen, if you have not seen it yet, there _will_ be a happy ending.

Reviews appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	19. Chapter 18

**Food Therapy – Chapter 18**

"I must say that I didn't expect things working out like this, Cody, but I won't say I'm not pleased."

A Chicken Paolo, one of the last to be served under the chef-ery of the masterful Chef Paolo, sat in front of the manager of Boston's Tipton hotel. Despite being in his late forties, there wasn't a single grey hair on Marion Moseby's head (which could be attributed to the fact that he had no hair on his head in the first place, but let's not go into specifics). A young chef-to-be, Cody Martin, sat opposite the manager and spooned some of delectable vegetable dish, a selection from the affectionately named "Delicious and Healthy Food ala Cody", into his mouth.

The food was, as usual, impeccable in quality. It almost made Cody want to give up on his plans and instead persuade Chef Paolo to continue wielding the ladle in the restaurant kitchen, but he knew the chef, who was getting on in years, had his reasons.

His brother, the lazy-bum-turned-workaholic, was busy at Ristorante Martini, presumably shouting out more directions to his devoted kitchen staff.

"What do you mean, Mr Moseby?"

"I suppose I never would have imagined you giving up a career in medicine to pursue food, though I recall that you do have the passion and skill to do a good job. I'm actually looking forward to having one of you hooligans running the Tipton restaurant after Chef Paolo leaves."

"Well, I did have reasons for that, I suppose." Cody threw another spoonful of the food into his mouth and nearly cooed in delight. "I suppose my passions have been deviating somewhat more towards this childhood 'hobby' instead of sticking with medicine. Food has been surprisingly significant in my life this past year."

Mr Moseby nodded thoughtfully.

"I see…well, if you're sure about the change that's coming in your life, I'd be more than happy to process the paperwork quickly so that you'd be in business. Of course, if you become a full time staff member of the hotel as head chef of the restaurant I would definitely be able to arrange for you to stay in the suite free-of-charge, if you recall the same arrangement your mother had in the past. Do you have a business plan?"

"Already drawn out." Cody smiled. "Also, Zack will be sending over some of his staff at his restaurant to assist me with running the restaurant until I get a full team set up. I understand that some of the staff are leaving with Chef Paolo."

"Indeed, and that's in fact a good idea, which is pretty rare for Zack." The comment incited a few chuckles from the two dining companions. "I have to voice my surprise, though. Zack…cooking? I would never have imagined."

"Precisely, Mr Moseby. I was pretty stunned to find out that he was the chef of my favorite restaurant as well. We really should pop by one of these days."

The two continued sharing opinions regarding Zack's surprising occupation and plans for the future of the restaurant. Cody then recalled one final detail regarding his management of the restaurant, and decided that this would be a good time to bring it up.

"Speaking of the restaurant, Mr Moseby…" Cody placed his beverage back onto the table. "I was wondering if I could propose a little…change."

Mr Moseby looked up at Cody.

"Change?"

"Yes." Cody understood its significance if he were able to invoke this major alteration. "A name change."

Mr Moseby looked hesitant now.

"A name change?"

"Exactly. Since I would be selling mainly Italian food, I would propose that the restaurant have an Italian name instead of just being known as the Tipton Restaurant. Not only would it give the restaurant a greater sense of individuality, but a fancy Italian name might actually get more of the bigwigs coming to the restaurant for a meal, if you know what I mean."

Mr Moseby rubbed his hairless chin thoughtfully.

"I suppose a name change wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, though it would be quite a big change for some of our loyal customers to adapt to…"

"Rest assured that the food quality will still be impeccable regardless, Mr Moseby."

Mr Moseby caught a glimpse of an urging force in Cody's eyes and realized that this 'name change' would probably be more significant to the chef than he would be able to understand. Having known the two young hooligans for years, he knew that each of them had certain facial features that would take shape when in jest and in seriousness. Cody now looked more like the latter than ever.

"It's negotiable, Cody. I could bring up your idea to the higher ups in the Tipton management, and if I bring up your points it's likely that you'll get your name change." Cody breathed a sigh of relief, allowing a smile to flash across his face at the manager's words. "What would be your proposed new name?"

Cody grinned and spoke the name along with his best Italian accent. Having spent years studying hospitality and picking up various foreign languages, the words were familiar to Mr Moseby, yet their supposed significance made no sense to the confused manager. The urging expression that Cody had put on earlier did not match up with this seemingly simple name.

Cody merely smiled at the manager's puzzled expression.

* * *

><p>It was near the end of another busy lunch service at Ristorante Martini, and everyone in the kitchen was drained by the influx of orders that had come into the kitchen. As profits soared, energy was drained, and it was getting more difficult to run the immensely successful restaurant. Zack was glad that he had been able to find a devoted and loyal team that tolerated his occasional outbursts and could perform efficiently.<p>

Today would be a highly significant day in the Martini calendar, perhaps even more significant than two days ago, where Ristorante Martini officially received its second Michelin star, once again setting the culinary world and press on fire.

Today would be the day where the Shadow Chef would silence the many postulators with regards to a highly significant aspect of the running of the restaurant. The staff had been informed of Zack's decision, and most have supported it. Despite the cloud of mystery that had been fresh from the initial periods of Martini's opening, it was now considered an old gimmick that had gone stale and should be eliminated to maintain Martini's reputation as a simple, classy place to eat.

For Zack, however, this decision was even more significant. It would be symbolic for the end of his disappearance in Boston. There was no longer a reason for him to hide anything.

With the rest of the kitchen giving him encouraging looks, Zack stepped towards the door of the kitchen, untouched by all aside from the dining and waiting staff. Today, someone unexpected would emerge from it at a most unexpected time.

He pushed the door and saw it swing open. Without hesitation, he took a step through it, allowing the cold air of the dining room hit him and calm his nerves.

The diners seated closer to the doors were the first to notice an unfamiliar sight of a man dressed in Chef Whites standing in front of them, staring out vacantly at the entire dining room. As word quickly spread like wildfire across the dining room, the entire room was quickly hushed as all eyes were set on one man.

Zack folded his arms across his chest and spoke in a loud, booming voice.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you are enjoying your meals. I trust we have met your expectations."

Nervous whispering broke out at the back of the room as realization dawned upon some of the diners. Others looked more clueless at the interruption than ever. Zack then caught a glimpse of the expression that a certain manager was throwing him from behind the podium, and allowed a cheeky smile to run onto his face.

"My name is Zackary Martin, and I am the executive chef of Ristorante Martini. Have a good day."

Without another word, Zack turned on his heel and marched back through the doors of the kitchen, ignoring the loud gasps, dropping jaws, smatterings of applause, and the overall explosion of conversation in the dining room. The Shadow Chef's identity had just been revealed, and in the flashiest way possible. Zack couldn't help but smile as he imagined the headlines for the next day.

Behind the podium, Esteban couldn't help but stifle a grin before he was bombarded by a tidal wave of questions from the astounded diners.

* * *

><p>"I love you guys."<p>

Cody smiled as he placed down two bouquets of flowers, one for his father and one for his mother, on the respective gravestones. The portraits engraved on the gravestones seemed to stare at their son lovingly, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm attempting a change in career, hopefully it turns out well. I think I've explained what food has done for me over the past year, so hopefully you'll understand."

The visit today was much brighter than the last. The weather, instead of being chilly like the last time, was almost intensely sunny, a few butterflies fluttering about the flowers planted in the cemetery, and some birds frolicking about the trees.

"With regards to the girlfriend thing, it's definitely over, for sure, so you don't have to worry about me anymore. I finally got closure just a few days ago, with Zack's help."

Cody then remembered that he should mention his brother.

"Zack's doing great, obviously. I'm sure you guys always knew that he would find success, despite what you used to say, mom." Cody grinned at his mother's gravestone and imagined the portrait winking back at him.

"He's still getting over the last visit, but once he's ready I'll take him back here so he can talk to you guys again. It would be good for him, definitely. I know I got better when it came to these visits as time passed."

Nearby, a little bluebird flew across the many gravestones and landed on Cody's shoulder. He beamed at the sight of the new visitor twittering on his shoulder without a care in the world.

"Thanks for the sign which you gave that day, mom. I'm sure it helped Zack a lot."

As he recalled the intensity of the last visit and the rain that had follow, Cody felt a tiny ball of emotion explode within him. He swallowed and blinked quickly, not wanting to cloud the bright moment that he was sharing with his parents with unnecessary tears. This was supposed to be a good visit, anyway.

"I hope you guys are doing well up there. Say hi to grandma and grandpa for me. I'll be back in a few weeks."

Cody traced both portraits with his index fingers and smiled.

"Love you."

Taking one last backwards glance, Cody turned and walked back towards his car, wiping away the moisture that he gathered around his eyes. The little bluebird flew off his shoulder and landed on Carey Martin's gravestone, chirping happily.

* * *

><p>"Chef Martin! We don't have enough sea bass to last us through tonight's dinner service!"<p>

Zack turned and frowned at the young cook who had just informed him of the potential crisis that was looming ahead.

"There isn't any sea bass left?"

"We only have 2, chef, and since our special for the week is Sea Bass alla Fiorentina, it's unlikely that we would be able satisfy all the orders."

Zack swore under his breath and made a mental note to scold the secretary for this dangerous mistake. Should a restaurant run out of a main ingredient in the middle of service, it would be disastrous for reviews and customer faith, which Zack placed above all else in this tricky and finicky business. He turned and spoke to the sous chef.

"Get our supplier on the phone, ask if they can send over some sea bass."

The sous chef nodded and went right ahead with completing his task. A few minutes later, he returned with bad news.

"Sorry, chef, but the supplier doesn't get fresh fish till the weekend, and right now they have the leftover ones from the previous week that probably aren't fresh anymore."

Zack growled a little, upset that a small logistical error could cause such a potentially huge disaster. There was now only one option remaining, if the restaurant were to run smoothly tonight. Looking down at the two remaining frozen sea bass sitting in the freezer, he knew what he had to do. He would usually ask a line cook to go on errands, but for a task as crucial as choosing the freshest fish, he only trusted his own judgement.

Slipping off his Chef Whites, he walked out through the restaurant back door and began a short walk to the nearby supermarket, one that he had patronized numerous times in the past due to its surprising food quality.

He prayed that today, they would have the sea bass that his customers desired.

Within a few minutes, he had arrived. The significance of this fateful trip would only be apparent later.

Nodding to the cashier, who smiled at him upon his entrance, he made his way to the aisle where all frozen products were kept. The fishmonger working in the supermarket smiled as he saw the familiar face.

"Good afternoon, chef. How was business?"

Zack pushed aside his frustration with his inefficient secretary and returned the smile.

"It was fine. I'm here on a special mission today, old chap. I'm looking for some fresh sea bass. Do you still have any?"

"Right in front of you there, chef."

Zack looked down at the shelf chock full with ice and realized that his desired fish was indeed sitting on its cold bed alongside the other fishes. Taking a quick check on the redness of the gills and the brightness of the eyes, he determined that the fish was indeed fresh.

"I'll take this one whole. Scale it please, but there's no need to cut it up for me. The cooks over at my place can do it."

The fishmonger nodded affirmatively and picked up the fish, placing it on the chopping block. With skillful hands, he picked up his knife and ran it along the side of the fish rapidly, watching as its scales flew off the silvery skin of the sea bass. Zack watched admirably as the old master shed the fish of its scales, wondering if he would ever be as good at managing a fish as the fishmonger.

_Most of us only manage fish that have been filleted before._

He felt a growing respect for the specialists of his field.

Knowing that it would take a little longer for the fish to be completely de-scaled, Zack decided to roam the other aisles for ingredients which the restaurant might need. Trying to recall the ingredients that were experiencing shortage in Martini, he lost himself in his mental groceries list.

Turning into a aisle, he didn't see another person in his blind spot and collided with the figure, causing the basket of groceries held in the person's hand to fall to the floor, a few of the oranges contained within it rolling away to escape purchase.

Shaking his head to clear it, Zack realized his blunder.

"My goodness! I'm sorry about that. Let me help…"

He then went down on his knees to pick up a few of the escaping fruit. The person knelt down and joined him in snatching oranges off the ground to speed up the task.

"No worries, I didn't see you coming either…"

They both looked up simultaneously. As they locked eyes, Zack was met by the most entrancingly beautiful set of brown eyes he had ever seen in his life. A curtain of long, jet black hair fell over the person's ears. As Zack breathed in, he could smell a musty, spellbinding scent, unlike any other he had experienced in cooking, but equally welcome.

The woman sat in equal enthrallment, hypnotized by the dirty blonde hair, aquamarine blue eyes and strong, delicious aroma coming off the man kneeling down in front of her.

In chorus, they smiled and stood.

He offered a hand first.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Zack."

She grasped his offered hand in her own, shaking it. The contact was warm and convivial.

"I'm Maya."

* * *

><p>It was the day of the Tipton restaurant's relaunching, and the hotel was bursting with energy. Inside the kitchen, the staff, along with their new head chef Cody Martin, was checking all the necessary equipment and ingredients needed to make the night, and subsequent nights, a success. In the dining room, the waiting staff, having just been formally introduced to their new boss, was busy helping the decorators redecorate the place to introduce a fresh new atmosphere to diners.<p>

Outside the restaurant, Mr Moseby was fielding questions from the numerous members of the press that have arrived to document the event. Having accommodated celebrities in the past, he was used to the bombardment of the paparazzi, but admittedly he had not expected that the night's relaunch would invite so much talk amongst New Yorkers.

The reason for such was clear.

The executive chef of the Tipton restaurant was now the twin brother of Chef Martin of Ristorante Martini, as pointed out strategically by the latter in an interview granted to the press a few days ago.

Zack's introduction had clearly invited much enthusiasm amongst the press and the culinary world, and Mr Moseby was positive that Cody would not disappoint. With the atmosphere nearly bubbling with energy, Mr Moseby continued answering as many question as he could.

"Mr Moseby, was there any doubt in appointing a new executive chef to take up the head post in place of Chef Paolo?"

Mr Moseby smiled.

"As with any major change in administration, there would definitely be uncertainties in the initial part of any business's running. However, I can personally testify to the culinary skill of our new executive chef, and I am positive that he will make the restaurant into a bigger success than before."

The reporters who had arrived on the scene rapidly scribbled on their notebooks. Another question was thrown from the floor.

"Mr Moseby, could you comment on the relationship between Chef Cody Martin, who according to an interview from a few days ago, is the twin brother of the newly disclosed 'Shadow Chef', Chef Zack Martin?"

"The relationship between the two is wonderful. They are indeed twin brothers, as Zack had previously mentioned, and I watched the two grow up from children into adolescents. I think that they are two extremely capable individuals, and their brotherly bond strengthens continuously as they both engage in a field which they both love."

The reporters smiled, satisfied with his response, and jotted it down. Yet another question was thrown.

"Mr Moseby, there have been rumors of a change in the name of the restaurant. Would you like to comment on that?"

"Perhaps it would be better if Cody responded to that question himself...in fact, here he is!"

Mr Moseby raised a hand at the opening doors of the restaurant just as Cody stepped through them. Also immediately some of the reporters began twittering amongst themselves upon the realization that the chef and Zack Martin were in fact, twin brothers.

"Mr Moseby, some of the decorators need you in the dining area."

"Of course, I'll be there right away. In fact, I believe these ladies and gentlemen here…" he waved a hand across the cluster of reporters, "want to ask you some questions. I'll see you later, Cody."

Without another word, Mr Moseby stepped into the restaurant, leaving Cody alone to talk with the reporters.

After some initial introduction, the question asked to the manager earlier was rephrased. Cody raised an eyebrow as he wondered how news of the renaming could have leaked out before the official relaunch, but he decided to handle the question with poise.

"The rumors are correct, the Tipton restaurant is indeed being renamed."

Some of the reporters looked surprised at the confirmation of their scoop, and continued scribbling furiously.

"The name was chosen after much thought. It came about through the restaurant's new status as a primarily Italian eating place, and the effect of food and its inspiration on the lives of my brother and me over the past year. I trust that the public will welcome the change."

Cody nodded to the herd of reporters.

"The restaurant's new name will be Cibo la Therapia."

The Italian name was quickly written down, while a reporter made another enquiry.

"And that name in English is…"

Cody smiled.

"Food Therapy."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note – <strong>And that nearly concludes the story, with the exception of the epilogue coming later. I decided to leave some part of the story (Maya's appearance) open-ended for you readers to imagine for yourselves what happens next. Of course, a happy ending for everyone, as I promised. I decided to write this second last chapter in a series of short excerpts, hopefully this chapter sits well with you guys.

I want to thank all reviewers and all readers who have seen me through the two month writing process of Food Therapy, and frankly I couldn't have done it without you guys. It's a little sad to finally end the story, but I figured I had to do it quickly before I got bored and left it unfinished (and you guys don't want me to elaborate on unnecessary details, do you?). Thank you once again, and I'll see you all in the Epilogue.

Reviews appreciated

~SUITELIFEFAN


	20. Chapter 19

**Food Therapy – Chapter 19 **

Thanksgiving.

The season to be thankful of the past year's joys, trials and tribulations. The season for friends and family to come together to have a meal together, to share experiences and to just have a good time. The first thanksgiving was celebrated by the Pilgrims to give thanks to God for being their guide, bringing them safely to the new world. It stands in North America today as a tradition celebrated yearly as part of the broad holiday season.

Today was to be Zack and Cody's happiest Thanksgiving in a decade.

Suite 2330, despite being void with the exception of the two brothers, was already bustling with energy. With utmost tenacity and skill, Zack cracked four eggs into a large bowl, watching as the yolks and transparent liquid flowed into the large bowl. Making a mound with the floor on the bench, he scooped open a well at the center and poured the eggs into it. Sprinkling some salt into the eggs, he started to work the eggs and flour together. Soon, he had smooth dough in front of him.

His brother Cody was working on the other portion of the collaboration. After placing the peanut butter in a small glass, he added the hot water to the mix and stirred with a fork until his desired level of smoothness was reached. The next ingredient was the always important soy sauce, followed by garlic, cream, sesame oil, and just a dash of chili sauce to tempt the taste buds.

The two brothers worked to finish the dishes, operating together in sync, much like how an efficient industrial kitchen line would be run.

"Cilantro?"

"In the bowl behind you."

"Thanks."

The dinner today was to be unique, unorthodox to a large extent. There would be no Turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, or any other conventional dishes that are seen around the dinner table during the holiday. Today, all guests would celebrate a very Martin Thanksgiving, and with two masterful chefs at the helm of the food preparation, it was bound to be a complex but great feast.

The first visitor to knock on the door of suite 2330 had been the Peruvian manager Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez, newly appointed general manager of the just-opened Cibo la Therapia. It had taken much thought for Zack to part with his loyal floor manager, but after some negotiation it had been agreed that Esteban would stay with Cody to train the waiting staff for a period of three months before he himself made the decision as to whether to return to Martini and Zack or stay with Therapia and Cody. For Esteban there wasn't too much of a problem. Having the late night visitor with the masterful palate as his boss would be a welcoming experience. Upon the opening of the door, Esteban had greeted the two brothers with a wide smile and hurried to help with laying the table, his instinctive restaurant management abilities not gone to waste.

The second visitor was Maya Bennett, a lovely female maître d' working at a restaurant located just opposite Ristorante Martini. Her encounter with Zack in the supermarket a month ago had been an experience neither would forget in a long time, and since that day they had already gone out for late night coffee innumerous times after their respective dinner services. Zack had made it clear that he intended to 'poach' this jewel from the competing restaurant, and so far Maya had made no indication that she desired otherwise. Cody, having seen the way the two greeted each other upon her entering the suite for Thanksgiving dinner, was happy for his brother. After a ten year dry spell Zack more than deserved such a relationship.

The third visitor was a surprise to Zack. Upon opening the door, he gasped.

"Chef Jean-Pierre!"

The elderly chef grinned.

"And how are you doing, Zackary? Or should I say…Chef Zack?"

After some pleasantries were exchanged, Zack steered Jean-Pierre into the kitchen with a desire to introduce him to Cody, only to be met by Cody's cheeky smile.

"I believe we've met."

Zack was flabbergasted.

"What? How…"

"Why do you think he has come today? I made a call to the CIA looking for the mentor whom you had told me so much about, and was pleased to find that he was still working there as a senior teacher. So, I made a trip down there this weekend to invite him for dinner today."

Jean-Pierre, now with a head full of white hair and a soft voice (a far cry from the days where he had once thrown foie gras at a student), spoke up.

"It was nice to meet your brother. After your fascinating story that day I have always wondered what he was like, though I didn't expect that he was your twin. What a surprise it was for me when he came down to see me that day, I thought he was you! He is the one you talked about that one day with the pasta, the one who inspired you to begin cooking, is he not?"

Cody looked surprised and pleased at the revelation of this piece of information, which was affirmed (somewhat grudgingly, as Zack didn't want Cody's ego to inflate _that_ much) by Zack.

"I can sense that you two are alike in many ways. Both of you are skillful in the kitchen, and both of you cook with that special ingredient in all your dishes. I trust you still use it, Chef Zack?"

"Indeed Chef, and I've added one additional ingredient to the mix." Zack smiled. "Passion and love still remain the crucial ingredients."

There were no need for more words to be exchanged between the master and the student. A satisfied smile on Jean-Pierre's face already told Zack everything that he needed to know, that his training at the CIA, especially in that creativity class, had been tremendously useful and valuable.

The fourth and fifth visitors, Chef Paolo and Arwin Hawkhauser, were greeted with much enthusiasm by the two brothers, especially Zack, who had not seen them since ten years ago. Chef Paolo, a now-retired chef, stood in the kitchen during the food preparation process and gave advice where appropriate, which the two Martins were more than happy to take from the chef with over thirty years' experience in the industry. Arwin, being as goofy as usual, attempted to help with preparing food before being told very nicely but firmly by Cody to instead sit down on the couch and watch some television. After a bit of pouting he found joy in conversing with Esteban, their conversation mostly going along the lines of "You look really familiar. Are you sure we've never met?" Maya, being an extroverted lady, chimed in when appropriate, much to Arwin's surprise at having a girl interested in his conversation.

The sixth visitor, Mr Marion Moseby, was the last on the guest list of the small dinner party. Being an unofficial parent to the two boys when they were younger was both a pain and (as much as he hated to admit it) a joy. Mr Moseby was glad to be invited to the Martins' Thanksgiving celebration, which symbolized to him the development of the two young brothers as bildungsroman. Two young immature children have now grown up and learned from their respective life experiences to become successful in the paths that they have decided to tread. Mr Moseby had no doubt that Ristorante Martini (which he vowed to visit over the coming weeks) and Cibo la Therapia would be magnificent successes.

* * *

><p>Dinner was served. As the guests sat down at the small dining table, the two brothers remained standing, eager to introduce the prepared dishes to the guests.<p>

"As you can see, the Thanksgiving dinner we've prepared is somewhat unconventional and almost exclusively Italian, however I hope the message behind this shared dinner we're all having together today still comes through to everyone."

The guests smiled and nodded at Cody's introduction to the night's spread, a large collection of dishes placed neatly at the table, creating an amalgam of colors. Their collective aromas blended together to create a remarkably realistic Italian restaurant experience.

"If you'll all shift your eyes to Mr Moseby's end of the table, you'll see that we've prepared a traditional Crockpot Italian Chicken Vegetable Soup. Hearty and nourishing."

"And if you'll take a look at the plate directly in front of Arwin," the guests turned their head to admire the next dish. "We've got a simple Sun-dried Tomato, Feta and Pine Nut Salad for everyone pass around."

"As Chef Paolo and Chef Pierre might have noticed, a soup and a salad is a traditional part of an Italian meal. For the main courses, we have specially created a special dish for every single individual here sitting at this table to suit your individual tastes."

Everyone at the table was by now looking very impressed, even the two veteran chefs. Though there was no turkey for this dinner, it was clear that the perfectionist brothers have still strived to impress. Cody was the first to introduce his dishes.

"For Chef Paolo, who's on a vegetarian diet as I've been informed of before today, I've personally prepared what I call a Tricolor Tomato Ravioli, with spinach, tomatoes, capers, basil, and a healthy amount of cheese. I understand we did talk about moderation when I was younger, Chef, so I think a little cheese in your diet is fine."

"Thank you so much for thinking of me, my little protégé!" Chef Paolo, bubbly as usual, was pleased with his dish.

"For Mr Moseby, I've prepared a simple Fettuccini Carbonara, which I plan to install as one of the chef-recommended items on the new restaurant's menu. Bacon, garlic, Fettuccini pasta and fresh Parmesan cheese. It's one of the few dishes which I managed to master as a child, so I hope you enjoy it as much as we did then."

Mr Moseby voiced out his thanks before looking down at his bowl in awe, which contained possibly the richest looking carbonara pasta he had ever seen in his life.

"And for Arwin, to appeal to the child I believe is still within you (Mr Moseby and Zack snickered at this comment), I've attempted an entirely new experimental dish. Pecan Pancake Pizza, with added maple syrup flavoring and canola oil."

Everyone sitting at the table gave awed expressions upon hearing the name of the dish, having never heard of anything so avant-garde before. Chef Pierre, in particular, gazed at the dish and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, mumbling a few words to himself.

"A bold combination, but it probably works. I wonder why I've never tried that…"

Arwin picked up a slice of the pizza made just for him and analyzed it closely, before shouting at the top of his voice.

"It's shaped like a rhinoceros! You remembered!"

Amidst the scattered laughter around the table, Cody grinned, recalling a certain time long ago where Arwin had stayed over with them and drove their mother crazy with requests for rhinoceros pancakes.

"There's no way I could have forgotten, Arwin. Enjoy."

"And now it's my turn…" Zack cleared his throat dramatically, inciting a giggle from Maya and rolling of eyes from Cody.

"For Esteban, I've appealed to your Peruvian heritage by preparing a fusion dish, a combination of a Classic Peruvian Ceviche with Fusilli pasta. I've always wanted to experiment with fusion cuisine, so hopefully this first attempt will be satisfactory."

"Thank you very much, chef!"

"For the lovely Maya, I remember you telling me how you liked childhood comfort food, so I've prepared for you a simple Spaghetti with Meatballs in Bolognese sauce, just like how you described your grandmother making it."

"Sweetie, you remembered! Thank you!"

"And last but not least, and possibly the dish I'm most worried about because of the person I'm serving it to…" Chef Pierre gave a little chuckle at Zack's comment. "I went with a classic, also one of the dishes that are most popular at Ristorante Martini. Garden Penne, made with Zucchini, Yellow Squash, Red Onion, Red and Green Bell Peppers, diced tomatoes, black pepper, and a generous helping of mozzarella. And of course, I put in the most important ingredient: a whole lot of passion. I trust this will satisfy your expectations of me, Chef."

Mr Moseby looked at the combination of bright colours in Chef Pierre's bowl, and quipped.

"It looks beautiful, Chef Pierre, but regardless of how it tastes, you can be proud of having Zack try to fulfill your expectations. He couldn't even fulfill simple ones of mine, like not jumping on the hotel furniture."

After the vicarious laughter had died down from the small group, the two brothers took their seats and indicated for everyone to begin their meal. Soon the air was filled with generous compliments at the richness of the carbonara sauce in Mr Moseby's Fettuccini, the perfect amalgamation of Italian with Peruvian in Esteban's fusion dish, amongst others.

Maya then made an observation at the food on the plates of Zack and Cody.

"What are you guys eating? I've never seen anything like it!"

The loud conversation died down at the table as everyone turned their eyes to the plates in front of the two brothers. Zack and Cody looked at each other, and then described the dishes.

"Zack is having something known as Peanut Butter Pasta, made with peanut butter, soy sauce, whipping cream, sesame oil and fresh cilantro…"

"While Cody is having Lasagne di manzo con salsa al cioccolato bianco, or Beef Lasagna drenched in a generous helping of white chocolate sauce."

"Such clever yet unusual concoctions…" Chef Paolo thought aloud in his typical French accent. "How did you come up with these?"

The two brothers looked each other and grinned, knowing that the others would not be able to understand the true significance of the dishes that sat in front of them. The dishes, aside from the peanut butter and white chocolate sauces, were coated in a thick layer of delicious, delicious nostalgia.

The _other_ important ingredient.

"It's a long story." said Zack and Cody simultaneously.

* * *

><p>The guests have left, and suite 2330, previously bustling with conversation, was now quiet once again. The guests, upon voicing their thanks, had decided to leave and perhaps retire early for the night, especially with two elderly chefs amongst them. Mr Moseby and Maya were the last to stand from the pull-out couch, and generously offered to help with the washing up of the multitude of dishes that sat (nearly polished clean) on the dining table. The offer was gratefully accepted by the two brothers, and the four chatted joyously as they scrubbed, soaped, and dried.<p>

As time drew onwards one of the four contributors in the washing up conversation slowly quieted down. Due to the enthusiasm of the other three in exchanging banter, however, his lack of participation grew unnoticed. Eventually the person in question put down the dirty rag in his hands and slipped out of the constrained kitchen area unnoticed, and on his way out he snatched up a wine glass and a bottle of Prosecco wine from the hidden liquor compartment under the kitchen counter.

The person made his way into his childhood bedroom, which would have been completely dark if it weren't for the moonlight that penetrated the transparent glass window, the sole connection between occupants of the room and the streets of the heart of Boston. Leaving the door slightly ajar, he sat down on the bed (or one of the beds, as he then realized that there were still two) cross-legged, as though he were a child again, looking up at the stars and moon in the night sky and wondering about the heavens.

With a small pop the bottle of wine was uncorked, and the clear, sparkling white wine left the bottle and met the glass, still bubbling gently as it was exposed to the air. The glass was raised, and a sip was taken, followed by an involuntary sigh as his heart was calmed and the alcohol sank deeper into his bloodstream.

One star twinkled brighter than the others in the night sky, catching his attention. It seemed to be calling out to him, nearly, its light falling on his eyes after a journey over trillions of miles. He squinted, and to his astonishment the star, one amongst millions visible in the night sky, spoke to him.

"Mom?"

Zack placed the glass on the bedside table shakily and crawled forward on his knees, pressing his face against the window, willing for the star to speak again.

"Mom…is that you?"

His voice sounded oddly quiet. The air in the room was still, its atmosphere surreal. When the star did not speak, he wondered if he had imagined it. He picked up the glass of wine and sipped from it again, wondering if the alcohol would allow the voice to come back.

It didn't.

He set down the glass and didn't resist as a lone tear rolled down his cheek, memories of the past flooding into him freely. Sniffing slightly, he wiped the wet streak across his cheek with the back of his hand and looked up once again into the night sky.

The star, mocking in all its mellow bright glory, stared back down at him.

Was it smiling?

"I miss you, mom."

Zack picked up the glass for the third time and held it in front of him, allowing its intoxicating fumes to enter his nostrils and drown him in fogginess. The relief from the pain of memory was welcoming.

"I miss you so much."

He drowned the glass and picked up the bottle, tipping it over the rim of the glass. A voice behind him shook him out of his partial trance.

"I can't believe you started without me."

Zack spun his head around, his eyes meeting his twin's. In his hand was an identical win glass, and on his face was a calm, surreal, and somewhat knowingexpression. Cody made his way up to his bed and climbed onto it beside his twin, who had returned his gazed to the sky. Taking the wine bottle from his hand, he filled up his own glass and sipped it gently.

The two brothers looked up at the night sky for a while.

"Hi, mom."

Zack looked at Cody in wonderment and anxiousness. Had his brother overheard him through the small gap through the door?

Cody looked at Zack and grinned.

"You're not the only one who talks to mom, thank you very much."

Feeling very much like a child, Zack pointed up at the star shining brightly in the sky.

"Is that her?"

"Yes, that's her." Cody smiled, realizing that Zack had sensed their mother in the same star as well. "She helped me through many a painful night before."

He sipped at his glass again, as Zack once again stared at the star, which was now twinkling faster than before, as though his mother was up in the heavens winking at him.

"You do know that she forgave you, don't you?"

Zack didn't break his gaze, still focusing on the faraway star.

"She gave us that sign that day when you saw her. She understands it was a mistake."

"Still…" Frustrated, Zack looked down into his lap and buried his head in his hands. "What I've done was…"

"Inexcusable, Zack. I know that. Every single person who heard about the incident felt it was inexcusable."

Groaning affirmatively, Zack felt himself sinking further into his self-doubt at Cody's words.

"But you know what?"

Cody then took his elder brother's hands in his own. Drawing Zack towards him to face him directly, he looked straight into the pair of eyes that were filled with insurmountable self-loathing.

"It's been ten years, Zack. What happened was a _mistake_. You need to _let go_."

Zack began to shake his head, but Cody interjected his next words with more of his own.

"Mom loves us, Zack, no matter how frustrated she was during the times where we irritated her by breaking things and foiling around in the hotel. We made a lot of mistakes when we were kids, and you know what? What you did was one of _those_."

Zack didn't say anything.

"The most important thing about making mistakes is that we must learn from them, and isn't that what you did? After the accident, you became more mature. You had goals in life, strived to achieve them, and ultimately did. I couldn't be more proud of you, Zack, and I'm sure neither can Mom."

Cody continued speaking with gusto.

"What you did was a mistake, Zack, but regardless of whatever errors you commit, Mom will still _love _you, Zack, because you're her _son_. And you know what? There are _other people_ that love you too. Just look into the living room."

Zack looked at the small slit of light that shone through into the dark room. Mr Moseby and Maya sat on pull out couch, chatting happily.

"Mr Moseby loves you. He was like a parent to us, and remains so. You couldn't have imagined how upset he was when I first told him that you had gone missing. And Maya? You only met her a month ago, but I've seen the way you two look at each other, and I'm sure that whatever relationship that happens between you two will be fantastic. And how about all the other people that care about you? Arwin? Chef Pierre? There are so many people in this world who care, Zack, and I don't think they want to see you continue brooding for the rest of your life over that one mistake."

There was a long pause as Cody searched for more words. Zack remained silent.

"I forgave you, Zack."

Zack looked up.

"I forgave you _ten years ago_. So why, Zack, why?"

Cody was now pleading. Zack lowered his eyes again.

"Why can't you_ forgive yourself?_"

* * *

><p>The two remaining guests in the living room had let themselves out after seeing a particularly tender sight upon peeking into the slit into the suite bedroom, one that Mr Moseby had never imagined seeing in his entire life, after witnessing uncountable disagreements from the two in question when they were children.<p>

Zack and Cody were seated on the bed, embracing. Few incidents in the past have revealed the tender brotherhood that lay beneath their stoicness, but tonight the air was rife with emotion, and the two twins have never felt closer. It had been the younger of the two that initiated the hug, a far cry from the elder brother's label as the protective one, but it felt comfortable all the same.

_Cody was sitting on his bed with his knees held firmly to his chest, sobbing silently. Zack, feeling guilty for the nasty prank he had just played on Cody, slowly walked to the bed and sat down beside his little brother. He swallowed his young pride and gave a heartfelt apology, asking for Cody's forgiveness. Cody looked up and nodded. The two embraced._

Two wine glasses sat on the bedside table, both filled with Prosecco wine.

It took a while for the two to separate from their embrace. Sniffing slightly, Zack spoke.

"I understand that you forgave me, Codes, and so did everyone else."

Cody waited patiently for his brother to continue.

"And I want to forgive myself, but it's not easy. It's going to take time. I don't know how long it'll take, but I'll get there some day."

Cody smiled.

"And I'm glad, because I know that…till the day I manage to properly put what happened behind me, you'll be there. It's been ten years, and I've missed you bro."

Cody pulled Zack into yet another embrace.

Two chefs, brothers, twins, brought together by food, passion, and love.

Twenty-three floors down, the newly opened Cibo la Therapia sat quiet, its dining room and kitchen patiently waiting for the next day, where energy and aromas will once again fill its atmosphere. Proudly brandishing a fresh new sign dictating its name and an impressively decorated interior, it screamed of ambition, hope, and anticipation towards the future.

Miles away from the heart of Boston, the double-Michelin starred Ristorante Martini sat quiet, a tiny, surprisingly well-kept restaurant, with its granny smith apple walls and aubergine porch, and a sign, large yet unintimidating, welcoming guests to the haven known as Martini. By now one of the best restaurants in the country, it stood as a representation of experience, passion, and love.

High above in the night sky, a star twinkled merrily.

All was good.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note – <strong>Before I begin this long author's note to commemorate the final chapter (warning: long note here), I would like to apologise for stating in the previous note that this would be the Epilogue. After reviewing the content of this chapter I found it was more suitable for a final chapter instead of an epilogue, and therefore the Epilogue has yet to come (which is good news, I suppose, for those of you who enjoy it).

My reasons are simple. I found that the story couldn't be properly ended unless I get a scene where the two brothers are together to properly conclude the main content and satisfy the backdrop of the plot for my entire story. I also felt that Zack's tragedy didn't receive the attention it deserved, so hopefully ending the story this way paves the way for a more satisfying conclusion.

I also wanted to end the story by bringing back a few of the important characters besides the two brothers (and with the exception of Bailey) to create a more homely feel. I apologise if the reappearance of Jean-Pierre was uncalled for, but I felt it would be a nice sentiment for the disciple to greet his master after achieving success.

There will be no Author's Note in the upcoming Epilogue, so I figured I might as well say all I need to here. To all readers and reviewers, thank you very much for the support you have given the story. By taking your precious time to read the story I feel even more satisfied upon the completion of my longest story yet. Even after the story has completed I hope that reviews will still come in from new readers, as it can still help me improve on my writing.

I stated at the beginning of the story that I aimed to bring forward the pleasure of food to you all, and hopefully I have succeeded in enriching your minds (and rumbling your tummies). Food truly is one of the greatest arts that human kind has ever indulged in, and I trust that everyone will respect food for its incredible ability to bring people together.

A final shoutout to ilovesprouse and KatrinaEagle for being especially devoted in reviewing my humble story, and to the creators of the Suite Life series for giving us many wonderful characters to work with in this area of Fanfiction.

See you all (I promise this is true this time) in the Epilogue, and thus ends my final Author's Note for Food Therapy.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	21. Epilogue

**Food Therapy – Epilogue**

"I just got a call from the Michelin Guide…we've just got our third Michelin star."

There was an overwhelming explosion of applause and caterwauling as the staff of Ristorante Martini, dining and kitchen alike rose from their seats and cheered upon hearing the fantastic news from their executive chef. Amidst the 4 years where the restaurant had been opened, this was undeniably the best news ever received during a monthly staff debrief.

Zack Martin beamed happily at his exuberant staff. Martini has truly reached the pinnacle of public and critical appreciation.

Trotting up happily to her boss slash fiancée, Maya Bennett, maître d' of Ristorante Martini, stood on her toes and pecked Zack on the cheek.

"Congratulations honey."

Zack returned the gesture.

"Thanks sweetie."

Maya then closed in and whispered in Zack's ear.

"Are you still going to the place later?"

"Yes, I've already made plans with Cody. You don't mind, do you? It's quite an important day and I felt it would be best if we went on…"

"Of course, I totally understand. I'll see you later when we you get back?"

"Sure, thanks sweetie. Love you."

The staff was dismissed for the day, still cheering and whooping as they went out the door. Every single staff member, having felt like part of the large extended family of Martini, was enthusiastic at its current and future prospects. Zack smiled as he realized how he had succeeded in bringing the restaurant team close and connected together.

With light footsteps he walked back into the kitchen and removed his Chef Whites, replacing them with his coat. Switching off all the lights and locking the doors, Zack strode out of the kitchen back door and walked towards his car.

* * *

><p>The celebratory champagne was poured into small glasses, invoking hooting and applause from the hotel staff that had gathered in the lobby for the special announcement. Mr Moseby was the first to pick up his glass, and upon everyone's collection of their own glasses, he raised it and cleared his throat to prepare for a toast.<p>

"To the further success of Cibo la Therapia, its chef Cody Martin, and its future second Michelin star!"

The staff cheered and downed the contents of their glasses. Cody grinned appreciatively through all the applause and turned to the restaurant staff.

"This feat couldn't have been possible without you guys, thank you very much for your fantastic work."

The restaurant staff smiled jubilantly, pleased at Therapia's success and Cody's praise. Their boss, despite being significantly more mellow than other chefs in the business, brought along an infectious love for food and a team-binding leadership which they had all grown fond of. Esteban, the restaurant manager, took a step forward and addressed his boss directly.

"I believe I speak for everyone here, Chef, when I say that it was your wonderful leadership and incredible cooking ability that had brought all of us together and made the restaurant successful. Thank you for _your_ hard work."

The restaurant staff collectively applauded and cheered, smiling at the appreciative expression on Cody's face.

Suddenly, the phone in Cody's pocket began to beep. Withdrawing it, he read the message and quickly turned to Mr Moseby.

"Mr Moseby, I need to leave now for the thing we discussed. Zack's already waiting for me outside the hotel."

"I understand. Go right ahead, I'll dismiss your staff for you."

"Thanks, Mr Moseby."

Shouting goodbye to everyone in the hotel lobby, Cody buttoned up his jacket and raced out of the Boston Tipton to see Zack's black Toyata sitting beside the curb, waiting for him.

* * *

><p>"Fantastic weather we're having. Isn't that right, mom and dad?"<p>

The weather was indeed fantastic. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and a gentle breeze made it way around the numerous gravestones that gently adorned the ground, which was covered with a thin sheet of white snow, freshly fallen from the night before. At this point a very light shower of snowflakes was still falling. It was slightly chilly, but the two visitors felt perfectly warm wrapped in their jackets.

"We've brought good news. Zack here," Cody prodded his brother standing beside him with his thumb and grinned. "Now owns a restaurant with three Michelin stars."

"And Cody," Zack then jabbed his brother's side to get back at the unnecessary prod earlier. "Just got his first."

"I'm going to catch up, eventually."

"Oh, you wish."

The two brothers gave each other mock threatening growls before allowing them to melt into laughter. The portraits of Carey Martin and Kurt Martin smiled warmly at their two children as snowflakes, each different in shape, size and flavor, fell from the sky as a shower of memories and nostalgia.

"These are for you."

Zack placed the bouquet of flowers he had brought at his mother's grave, while Cody did likewise for his father. Stroking the top of the gravestone affectionately, Zack removed a tiny package from his jacket pocket. The box was pink and tied with a silvery white ribbon. Holding it out in front of his mother's engraved portrait, Zack smiled.

"Happy Birthday, Mom."

With gentle fingers, Zack grabbed one end of the ribbon and pulled. Removing the lid of the tiny box, he extracted a miniscule masterpiece, just completed a few hours ago.

Within the box sat a small cupcake, Zack's first attempt at baking.

Procuring a lighter from his shirt pocket, Cody strode over to Zack's side and set the miniature candle sitting on the peak of the cupcake alight. Flickering a bit in the breeze, the flame gradually grew steady. Zack then sat the cupcake down on the ground, directly in front of Carey's grave.

"That looks fantastic."

Zack turned to his side and grinned at his brother.

"Thanks, Codes."

Throwing each other meaningful looks, Zack and Cody started clapping and singing.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you…"

It was the afternoon of a snowy December, and the sun was hours away from setting. Yet high above in the sky a certain star sat concealed in the sun's light, waiting for darkness to approach such that she would once again be visible. Looking down from the heavens at the two young boys, now grown men, a proud tear fell from her eye.

_My little men._

Beside her, yet another star scooted up beside her, sighed happily, and placed his arm on her shoulder. Smiling at her companion, the two stars held hands and looked back down onto earth at their boys, both looking happier than ever.

All was truly good.

**The End**


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